


Stay The Night

by Kaiisan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adult Hunk, Adult Keith, Adult Lance, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Hunk, Asexual Shay, Background Relationships, Bar Manager Keith, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Casual Sex, Chef! Hunk, College kid Pidge, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Sex, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Genderneutral Shay, Hook-Up, Humor, Keith has a bad past, Lance (Voltron) is a Dork, Lance is rebounding, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining, Professor Shiro, Rebound, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Some Humor, Starting Over, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, background shiro/allura - Freeform, but he's stupidly sincere and honest, equal parts fluff and angst bc you guys want it that way, family man lance, grade school teacher lance, he falls in love quickly, introverted Keith, little league coach lance, mentions of abusive ex-partners, mentions of sexual deviancy, no details just light descriptions tbh, only in conversation, rebound hook up, romantic sex, silly dates, soft smut, top/bottom swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiisan/pseuds/Kaiisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance meets Keith after being dumped by his girlfriend. Keith provides him with some unorthodox comfort, and promises it'll only be a One Time Thing. He doesn't think he'll ever meet Lance again, but Lance has other plans.</p><p>"Can we start again? I don't want your only memory of me to be me crying over my ex and then pinning you to your wall."</p><p>Hook-Up-To-Eventual-Dating AU. Let's see how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stood Up

Keith pours drink after drink, the business of the evening keeping him on his toes as patrons of the popular establishment queue at the bar for a cold drink. In this section of _The Altean Lion: Bar & Restaurant, _ Keith is in charge. Pouring and mixing liquor is his area of expertise. He could make all sorts of difficult concoctions in mere moments, usually with a flair of stylish tricks if the bar is quiet enough to show off. The business keeps him alert and on the move; keeps him thinking even if he knows the recipes off by heart.

The amount of people he encounters each night is high, and as introverted as he usually is in his private life, having the large wooden structure separating him from the masses helps keep him from feeling claustrophobic. Behind the bar, he usually works alone, or with the part-timer, Pidge, who works lunch shifts in between college classes.

The queue for drinks finally dies down to a couple of people when Allura, his employer and owner of _The Altean Lion,_ flutters in from the staff doorway behind the bar.

“Keith,” she breathes, sounding rushed off her feet. “I have to go drive Klaizap to the hospital, he sliced his hand on a broken plate shard.”

Keith rolls his eyes. Klaizap was a young college student and part-timer who waited tables and injured himself occasionally.

“I’ll watch the place, Allura.” Keith reassures her. The silver-haired woman grimaces, making him pause in making the drink he was pouring.

“Actually.. I need you on the floor. Nyma cancelled her shift earlier and Shay is already running between the kitchen and floor as it is, I can’t leave it all to her,” Allura’s eyes widen a little, her _I’m so sorry I’m making you do this_ expression clear as day to him. Allura is well aware that Keith is uncomfortable being surrounded by many people and tonight of all nights is one of the busiest in the week.

Keith frowns, sighing. He looks away from his boss, finishing the drink and collecting the money from the customer. He ties his hair up with an elastic from his wrist. “Sure. Since it can’t be helped. Just tonight though, right?” Allura nods. “Who will cover the bar?”

“Coran said he’ll come in for an hour or so, long enough for me to take Klaizap in to see if he needs stitches.” she explains. As she pauses, the staff door opened again, aforementioned man sticking his head through the doorway, with Klaizap behind him clutching his hand with some cloth.

“You might want to get going, Ma’am,” Coran gestures to the kid behind him. “He’s getting pretty anxious about the blood.”

“It-it doesn’t hurt that much,” Klaizap whimpers, trying to stay brave.

“Alright, we’ll get going then.” Allura turns back to Keith, reaching out to give his arm a light squeeze. “Thank you again.”

“No problem. Get going then.” Keith serves one final patron a drink, before Coran returns in his work clothes and Keith takes the staff halls into the kitchen.

* * *

He is immediately greeted with an abundance of aromas, steam and noise. Shay rushes past him, hurriedly shouting a greeting at him as they take two plates from Hunk and rush back out onto the floor to serve a table.

Hunk, head-chef-in-training of the restaurant, glances over his shoulder at his arrival, before continuing to cook. The big guy is an amazing chef, and an even more amazingly friendly person. He is kind to everyone, soft spoken and has no bad bone in his body; a true neutral character that has fun doing whatever his friends want as long as they had fun too. In the kitchen he became a different person, however. In the kitchen, he is second only to Alfor, Allura’s father and the original owner of the business, though this is soon to change as the older man comes closer to retirement. In the kitchen Hunk is resolute, steady and calm, taking charge of the other chefs working in the smaller stations as he and Alfor worked more than half of the kitchens by themselves. While he specialises in desserts, Hunk’s cooking is truly exceptional in all areas of fine dining.

“Keith! Nice to see ya buddy. Table five, please.” Hunk swings around, barely giving him a second to grab a towel to hold the plates with before handing the raven-haired barman two big plates of food.

Keith’s temper flares a little. Wait staff are always treated the worst by customers and staff members alike - even if the latter didn’t do it intentionally. He doesn’t like feeling below the colleagues he is usually on the same level with. He harbours no bad feelings towards Hunk; he's just starting to feel stressed out already. 

* * *

 

He works his ass off for a good forty-five minutes without stopping, and from the corner of his eye he spots a young man sitting by himself at a table for two, clearly having not been served yet. He stops heading for the kitchen and swings around to his table instead.

“Good evening Sir, have you been served yet?” Keith asks politely, though to many customers his voice sounded too monotonous and often created a tense atmosphere around the tables he waited on.

The man at the table looks up from his phone, worrying his lip between his teeth. His short brown hair was carefully styled in a carefree way, the crisp button-up shirt and waistcoat he wore fits him perfectly. His skin was dark, wonderfully tanned, and his dark blue eyes accented the freckles across his nose.

“Oh. Um, I’m fine, I’m waiting for someone, actually.” He grins up at Keith, a little nervous, and slightly flustered.

“Okay, can I get you anything to drink while you’re waiting?”

“Just water, thanks.”

Keith gives him a small nod, then leaves to quickly get him his drink from the bar. He adds a couple cubes of ice and once he has the drink he heads back to the table. The man sitting by himself is on his phone again, twirling it back and forth around his hand. He sets the water down wordlessly, catching a glimpse of the man’s screen, a text conversation open to a contact named: _Robyn <3 _

So he's waiting for his girlfriend, huh.

He leaves before the guy could thank him for the drink. He’s pretty busy after that, taking food and drinks to several tables and periodically casting glances to the lonely guy’s table. _He’s been there since 7:50pm…_ Keith notes absent-mindedly, reading 9:35pm on the kitchen clock as he goes back inside for more plates. Allura and Klaizap are done at the hospital, and Allura is driving him home before coming back to relieve Keith.

The kitchen closes at 10pm, the last orders having been taken and served. Only a few patrons are still dining in the restaurant half of the establishment, including the man sitting by himself. It is apparent that he’d been stood up, but he is still waiting hopefully for his date to show. Keith feels kind of bad for him, really. The guy obviously made an effort to dress up, and if he were honest with himself he’d admit that the guy was pretty handsome, in a sweet way. The guy never ordered anything to eat, either, so Keith wondered if maybe he should go talk to him.

Hunk steps out from the kitchen with a tired sigh, drying his hands on the towel he had on him.

“Looks like all the orders are done!” he grins happily, proud of his work. Keith tilts his head towards the guy in the corner.

“That guy’s been stood up. Hasn’t had anything since he got here. Should we, I dunno, tell him to leave?”

Hunk looks surprised. “What? No! Of course not. He must’ve had a reservation to be in here tonight..” he trails off, digging into the pocket of his apron to pull out a time tabled sheet of names. He scans it before finding what he’s looking for.

“We only had a couple two’s tonight, my guess is he’s reservation Rivera.” He pockets the piece of paper. “Well, last waiter duty for you: go ask him if he wants a sandwich or something to take to the bar; the kitchen staff have to close up the restaurant now.”

Keith clicks his tongue, annoyed at being bossed around. Hunk disappears back into the kitchen, leaving him to try and mellow out his annoyance on his own. He all but stomps up to the supposed _Mr Rivera._

“Excuse me, Mr… Rivera?”

The man looks up. His face is flushed, eyes rimmed slightly red and his hair was noticeably more messed up than before. His phone was facing down on the table and since he’d last visited his table he’d ordered a bottle of wine, which was now empty.

“That’s me,” he mutters.

“I’m afraid we’re closing the restaurant now,” Keith announces simply. “If you want something to eat we can make you a sandwich, or some soup, to take into the bar’s lounge area.”

Rivera looks confused for a moment, then shrugs, moving to stand. He stuffs his phone roughly into his pocket without even glancing at the time on it, and pulls his coat from the chair.

“A sandwich would be nice,” he mumbles. “Another bottle of wine would be better though.”

“Sandwich it is,” Keith sighs. “Are you allergic to anything? Want something in particular?”

The man - who Keith notes is taller than him, by a couple inches - shakes his head simply, and wanders towards the lounge.

 _That guy is gonna be a pain to deal with,_ Keith sighs to himself mentally, watching the slim, stumbling man sit himself on a barstool, and immediately dropping his head in his arms.

Keith heads back into the kitchen, passing Shay and Rolo as they cleared up the tables in the restaurant. Hunk is helping another part time cook store away the leftover ingredients.

“The guy said he doesn't mind what sandwich he gets.” he sighs irritably.

“Alright. I'll make something simple.” The chef takes out some ham and cheese and salad and within moments Keith has a plate full of delicious looking food to take back with him. He takes the staff route to the bar, passing Coran as he does, and the red-haired man informs him that the boss called, saying that seeing as there's only an hour left until closing, Allura is leaving it to him to close up. He gives a quick nod and enters the bar.

“Ham and cheese. Enjoy.”

The slightly tipsy man, Rivera, looks at the sandwich with bleary eyes, before sitting upright and pulling the plate closer to him.

“Thanks man.”

Keith doesn't reply. The hurt and sorrowful expression on the man's face is making his gut coil in uncomfortable ways, like he has a particular dislike for seeing him distressed. Instead he moves down the length of the bar to serve the few people waiting for drinks.

The other customers start to leave as the clock ticks closer to closing hour, 11pm. Since eating his sandwich, Rivera had ordered two double whiskeys and cokes, finishing them relatively fast and causing Keith a little concern. The brunet is swaying in his seat and can barely keep his eyes open for moments at a time. When Keith starts to work at his end of the bar, he can hear him talking to himself, about how his now-ex had left him, broken up with him by text.

“That’s rough, buddy,” he mutters as he dries glasses, shelving them under the bar as he pretends not to be interested in the other guy’s response.

“I know!” the guy whines, nursing the remaining sips of his alcoholic beverage, since Keith told him he wasn’t going to get anymore. “All I did was tell her the truth about me! It’s not like I cheated! I’d never cheat,” he mumbled.

Keith straightens up a bit from crouching behind the bar. “If you didn’t cheat, what was it you told her?”

He has no idea why he decided to play therapist to this drunkard, but something about his pitiful demeanour seems too honest to ignore. Plus he really, _really_ wants to close up soon, and this guy is the only one left.

The brunet didn’t speak for a few minutes, so Keith goes to the closet in the staff halls and brings back in a bucket and mop to clean the floors with. In the silence, Keith quickly mops the floors, efficient and immaculate, no excess water and no missed spots. The music that plays through the speakers changes from the usual bar’s playlist to one of Keith’s, all instrumental and no singing. At work, Keith prefers lyricless music while closing up by himself, it gave him a way to think and work at the same time. As he was tipping the bucket of now-dirty water down the sink, the man spoke up again.

“I told her I was bisexual,” he meekly offers, looking up from the bar to look Keith in the eyes. “I just wanted her to know who I am. I love her, that wasn’t going to change. Was I wrong?”

Those dark blue eyes were close to tears, close to spilling onto the bar wood and honestly, the sight kind of hurt Keith to look at. He sighs, sitting the bucket down and leans over the bar, keeping his eyes on those big blues the whole time.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” Keith says firmly. “If she’s stupid enough to let you go over something that’s a part of you, then you need to be the better person and let her go. You’ll find someone better. Someone who’ll love all of you.”

 _Quit feeding him words you yourself don’t even believe in, Kogane,_ a small voice in the back of his mind whispers, and he shuts it out. As long as the guy believes it and stops crying, that's all he cares about at the moment.

The look on the man’s face in front of him - Keith now realises how far over the bar he was leaning, the same moment he notices that he is leaning close enough into the man’s face for their breath to mix together -  somehow makes his heart leap into his throat. A couple tears spill over in disbelief, a red glow creeping strongly into his freckled cheeks.

“Really?” The man’s voice breaks a little as he tries not to sob. “Do you really think that, Mr, uh-?”

Keith can feel his own face getting a bit too warm to be comfortable, so he leans back again, clearing his throat. “Name’s Keith. And y-yeah. I guess I do.” He turns away from the bar to take the cleaning products back into storage, missing the slightly dumbfounded gaze on the man behind him.

He returns with the keys to the building a moment later.

“Hey, I’ve gotta lock the place up now,” he holds them up awkwardly. “You’re gonna have to leave, Mr Rivera.”

“Call me Lance, please.” The brunet, Lance, gives him a weak smile. Keith tries to return it, though he isn’t sure it works.

He waits for Lance to reach the front door before flicking the switch on the wall of the bar and heads through the dark lounge with a practised ease. They exit and Keith locks up silently.

“Listen, uh, Keith-” Lance starts suddenly, looking very unstable and drunk in the amber glow of streetlights. “I uh, drove here, and, um, this is gonna sound weird okay, but uh-”

“Do you want me to call a taxi for you?”  
“-Can I crash at yours?”

Both of them blink at each other, surprised.

Lance gives a weak laugh. “Hah, right. O-of course. A taxi. Yeah. I-I mean, sure…” he trails off, looking down at his dress shoes with an unbalanced sway.

“Why did you ask me that?” Keith asks instead. There is a weird mixture of feelings coiling inside him, again, due to the man in front of him. He's drawn to his emotions, in some way, and the only way to ease the yearning is by talking to him, being close to him, watching his reactions to what he said. He watches him now, wincing at himself and thinking over what to say.

“My place.. It’s full of Robyn. Her books are there, photos of us, her clothes…” he shrugs just the tiniest bit. “I didn’t want to go back to that just yet.”

“Okay.”

Lance looks up at him suspiciously at his response.

“Okay,” Keith says again, more firmly. “You can stay with me for a night.”

Lance’s mood brightens up considerably, almost taking a 180 turn.

“Seriously? You’re the man, Keith! I could hug you right now!” He tries, in fact, to hug the shorter man, long arms swooping at him, but Keith dodges the drunkard easily. Lance whines a little as he stumbles into empty space.

“I’m letting a complete stranger follow me home and crash on my couch,” Keith mutters to himself, keeping an ear out for the sloppy footsteps of the lanky drunk behind him as he heads home down the street. “Shiro would be _so_ proud of me right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hook up chapter will be posted tomorrow. (Only implied, btw, no details)
> 
> This is my first Voltron fic, please let me know what you think.


	2. One Night Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Chapter 1: hook up. Keith is an emotional rollercoaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo hook up time
> 
> sorry the chapter's pretty short, it was originally on the end of the first chapter but I separated it to kinda go more detailed on it, even if it isn't as detailed as you'd think. There's just stuff I'm going to fall back on later.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO THANKS for all the attention you guys have given this story already!!! I'm so happy ahhhh

Lance manages to trip more times than Keith can count in the space of ten minutes. Twice, the taller man tries to hold his hand as they walk, if only so that he didn’t fall behind, and both times he has to yank his hand from his sweaty grasp. They also stop in an alleyway once as Lance desperately needed to pee, the action itself taking an embarrassing amount of time, and then they were on their way again.

The further they walk in silence, the more sniffles Keith can hear Lance make as he, assumingly, thinks about Robyn and the events of the evening. By the time they reach Keith's second floor apartment in a relatively quiet downtown area, Lance is hiccuping and complaining that his head hurt, and Keith can feel a headache of his own forming thanks to the whining noodle behind him.

They get inside, and after taking his shoes off, Keith ignores the main light switch in favour of striding confidently across the living room space and switching on a small corner lamp, so that the light doesn't irritate Lance’s eyes.

 _Why am I being considerate,_ Keith questions himself, though he already knows the answer. He hears a _fwump_ as Lance drops onto his couch with a groan.

“Stay put,” he mutters with a sigh, moving around into the kitchen, which is thankfully only a few feet away; separated from the main room only by a half wall that acted as a breakfast bar.

Keith really likes bars, okay.

He fills two glasses with water and grabs a packet of aspirin for the drunk brunet on the couch.

“Water and painkillers,” he mumbles, fighting a cough as he rounds the back of the sofa to see that Lance had shed his jacket, shoes and waistcoat and was splayed across the cushions with his tie loose and half of the buttons on his shirt undone.

 _Why are the emotionally unavailable ones always this attractive_ , Keith's loathsome inner voice curses as he pushes the water into Lance’s hand. He sets the other glass and the aspirin on the coffee table.

“I'll get you a blanket,” he mutters, because Lance didn't respond to the water and simply takes sips whilst staring forward blankly.

When he comes back, his belt is gone as well as a glass and a half of the water, and Lance has his face in his hands, elbows digging into knees.

“Can you.. sit with me for a bit?” Lance mumbles through his hands. “I can't sleep.”

A glance at the clock. It's past midnight already.

“Sure.”

_You sure are a sucker for impossible conquests, aren't ya, Kogane?_

“Can I talk a bit? You don't have to respond.”

Keith gives a simple grunt in reply, dropping down in the armchair that sat at an angle to the couch.

“Thanks. I just… I gotta talk out my feelings to get over them. I'm that kinda guy. So I just.. gotta let it all out, I guess.” Lance speaks with his hands, twisting his right hand over his left and wringing them anxiously. “Robyn and I were together just over five months. We met at a park. I was rushing to a meeting with an old friend and I almost tripped over her and spilled coffee on her book. I bought her a new copy on our first date.” Lance tries to grin at that, but the memory makes his eyes water instead. “She was bossy and straightforward and had to be Miss Right, but she liked the same movies I did and never seemed to get tired of talking to me. And god, she’s so beautiful; pale skin and dark hair and these shimmery dark eyes…” Lance glances up to him briefly, eyes narrowing momentarily before widening again and looking away. Keith guesses he must’ve realised something when he trailed off, but he couldn’t imagine what it could’ve been.

“I wanted to tell her earlier about being Bi. She seemed okay with LGBT topics before. Wasn't against anything outright. But I guess, like most uneducated straight people, she thought I was twice as likely to cheat on her.” A tear drips down his chin, and he wipes at it furiously. He huffs out an angry laugh. “Haven't had that bad a response to me coming out since telling my grandparents. Old ways and all,” he shrugs.

He became silent, twisting the cuff of his sleeve to dry his cheek properly, keeping his face tilted upwards to stop anymore tears from leaking. Keith could only stare and hopelessly ignore the twinges of concern in his chest.

“I was kicked out,” Keith offers, surprising both of them. “By my parents, for being gay. I was fourteen. I was in foster care for a while until I got adopted when I was eighteen.” His mouth tilts into a small smile when he thinks of Shiro.

“Rough life, buddy.” Lance sighs, making Keith snort.

“That's exactly what I said to you earlier,” Keith gives a short chuckle, to which Lance responds with a laugh of his own.

“Oops,” Lance grins, shrugging. “Thanks though. For telling me. And letting me stay here, obviously.” He looks around briefly.

“Don't get comfy, stranger.” Keith warns with a smirk. “This is a one time deal.”

Lance cringes a little. “Right. Yeah. Sorry… again.” His cheeks flush as he meets Keith's eyes, just as Keith was pulling the hair elastic out and let loose his shoulder-length hair, earning an extra fluster from the man opposite him. “I-I uh, I'm really am thankful. You're really kind to someone as messed up as me. You're a good person.”

The praise makes the darker haired man tense in surprise, not used to the compliments. So he does what he does best: clamp away any feelings and roll his eyes.

“Don't worry about it. Really. I'm gonna go to bed, get some sleep.”

He gets up to leave, passing through the hallway to his room when socked feet come rushing after him.

“Lance, whatever it is- can’t it- wha-”

Keith is spun around sharply, suddenly pressed against his own wall, hands are cupping his jaw and two dangerously blue eyes are boring into his own slate greys.

“Keith - I, I don't know how to say this but I'm really attracted to you right now. It’s selfish, and it might be the booze from earlier talking or I might just need comfort in someone else right now but can I kiss you?”

It's a big rush of words, but for someone who was drunk just over an hour ago he spoke perfectly clear, and his intentions made heat blossom all over Keith's body; his face, his neck where Lance was touching him, a certain familiar heat in his stomach…

“You’re drunk, Lance,” he forces himself to say. “You're drunk and rebounding from being dumped. I'm a complete stranger remember?”

“I'm a consenting adult, the water sobered me up.” With the view Keith has of his face, he was fairly sure that was at least partially true. He wasn't drunk anymore, maybe just tipsy. “It's fine that we're strangers. Isn't that the point of hooking up?” Lance mumbles, and he leans down to kiss the shorter man's temple, and a few feather-light pecks down to the side of his mouth. Their breath mingled together. “Just like you said. A one time deal.”

 _Dammit,_ Keith's mind reluctantly whispers. _I can't believe I'm going to let this happen to me again._

Keith tilts his head upwards, pressing their lips together in a quick, brief kiss that seems to knock the bravado from Lance’s act.

“Don't go acting guilty about this in the morning,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “A hook up is sex without feelings.” He presses another kiss to Lance’s lips, drawing a small whine from the taller man. He pulls back again to meet aroused blue eyes. “I don't care if I never hear from you again, so just touch me as you want.”

Lance growls back at him, primal and so damn attractive as he lifts Keith up and presses their hips together into the wall, rough kisses bruising his lips, and in the back of Keith's mind, as he wraps his legs around Lance’s narrow waist and tangles his hands in the short chocolate locks, a single thought starts to fade away as lust takes over:

_You're a shitty liar, Kogane._

* * *

 

Keith wakes up in bed at around midday. The sheets closest to his bedroom door are pulled back, and the clothes he wore yesterday to work are kicked to the side. A tie that isn't his lay at the end of the bed, partially hidden by the blanket itself. The apartment is depressingly silent.

 _Gone already,_ he guesses, _good._

He sits up, familiar aches in his lower back making the movement twice as difficult. Bruises bloom on his hips in the shapes of fingers and thumbs, and the junction between his neck and left shoulder feels sore with bite marks. Each movement brings memories of last night to the surface of his thoughts, heat and pleasure and that feeling of being _so intimate_  with someone- he shakes his head. He stretches through the aches anyway.

He grabs clean clothes and heads for the bathroom, showering leisurely and ignoring the emotional ache in his chest in favour of treating the physical ones with the pressurised shower head on his aching muscles. The tension is released a little.

He dries off and gets dressed half an hour later, and he wanders towards the kitchen to get something to eat when he sees the empty glasses and aspirin packets from the night before, as well as a surprisingly lengthy note.

 

 ******Hey, Lance here.**  
**Sorry. I know you said no emotions, one-time-deal but honestly, I'm not that kind of person.**  
**I feel shitty for unloading my emotional baggage onto you last night. No pun intended.**  
**I'm sorry I'm leaving before you wake up too. I have to go get to my volunteer work before**  
**10am - I actually coach Little League Baseball on Saturdays.**

 

Keith pauses there, snorting in amusement at the thought of how Lance might be around children. He tries not to think about it for too long though, and keeps reading.

 

 ******Seriously, thank you for reaching out. I don't even know your last name. You didn't have to,  
you could have just sent me on my way, but you comforted me and let me crash on your  
couch (even though I ended up in your bed instead). I won't forget that.  Even though you said  
you wouldn't care if you never saw me again, I want to see you. Maybe start over, because we**  
**didn't have the best of introductions last night. My mobile number’s down below. I promise I'll**  
**be sober next time we meet!**

**Ps. I left my tie on purpose. You HAVE to text me so I can get it back!!**

**Lance Rivera x**

**07--XXXX-0079-XX**

 

Keith gives a emotionless chuckle, dropping the note back on the kitchen counter and opening the fridge.

_Nice try, Lance Rivera. A one time deal is a one time deal._

_Even if my heart wants to disagree._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't feel its too rushed or mind the lack of 'details' - i don't want to promote casual sex more than necessary and I've never written smut before lmao. Use protection kids.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, your comments REALLY make me want to write more!!\  
> (Also I will be on holiday from today (18th) and wont be back until the 30th! So most likely no quick updates. But I'll try and write a lot for when I get back!  
> Thanks!


	3. Inner Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith struggles with himself, basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fair warning this turned out a lot angstier than I originally planned lmao  
> also sorry in advance but Lance doesn't show up in this chapter
> 
> and thank you for all the comments/kudos/subs/bookmarks so far!!!! :D

Time goes by in mixture of tension and anxiety and stifling emotions. This isn't the first time Keith had hooked up with someone who needed a rebound but even with knowing from the start - and nowadays being the one to decide that the deal is one night only - it makes him feel hollow and worthless sometimes. Right now is one of the times where he wishes he isn't so stubborn about his one night rule. Lance really seems like a nice guy.  
_Nice guys don't go having rebound sex the same night they break up with their partners,_ a grudging voice in his head reminds him sharply, and he feels inclined to agree.  
The weekend goes past with a lot of overtime work for Keith, coming in early on Saturday and Sunday in order to ignore the note still atop his kitchen counter. Pidge, who usually works the weekend lunch shifts by themselves, is immediately suspicious, though they didn't say anything until Keith clocks in early lunchtime on Monday too.

“Alright. Time for you to spill.”

“Don't know what you mean,” Keith mutters under his breath as he cleans tables in the lounge. Pidge, from their seat at the bar, snorts obnoxiously.

“You never work three 12s in a row, and a _weekend_ at that,” Pidge points out. “You're technically not even being _paid_ to be here at lunch hours.”

“It's none of your business, Pidge,” he sighs, moving candles and menu stands to wipe away crumbs.

“You're only like this when you’ve had another one-”

“I _know,_ Pidge! Just drop it! Shit,” Keith curses, mainly at himself for raising his voice at the younger teen. He 's supposed to be the adult here. A wary glance towards his co-worker shows them looking more concerned than offended by his outburst.

“Just.. don't let it affect your health again,” is the quiet anecdote that came from Pidge a few minutes later. “Take tomorrow off yeah? I’ll cover you.”

“....I'll ask Allura,”

It's all he's willing to give on that.

* * *

  
Keith does take Tuesday off in the end. His extra hours didn't get past Allura’s eyes either and she had demanded he take the day off with Pidge covering him.  
So instead, Keith goes jogging. All day.

He lets himself sleep in until eleven, has a filling breakfast, and sets off with his phone strapped to his thigh and his headphones blasting loud, upbeat remixes of all sorts of songs that he knew through different stages of his life so far. He jogs his way through the downtown streets of his area, out through edge of the city centre and into the suburban areas, jogging past cul-de-sacs and schools full of young children and parks with happy dogs and their owners. He makes it down to the tiny coastline the city has to offer and takes a break, checking the time.

 _4 hours,_ he muses, thinking about how he managed his pace to make this distance with few breaks.  
There's a park a couple of metres behind the bench that he's sat on, one of the multi-purpose ones for all kinds of sports for young children, and his train of thought flickers back to Lance and the note he left, where he mentions being a Little League coach. It makes his heart flutter and he really doesn't want it to.

 _No matter how earnest he might be, a relationship that starts as a rebound always fails,_ he scowls, then gets up and starts the jog back home.

* * *

 

On Wednesday, his mood is marginally better, which might have been the reason why Pidge decids to corner him again.

“Now that you've cooled down, Hothead, why dontcha tell the Pidgemeister what's up?”

“There's not much to tell,” Keith shrugs. “I had a one night stand. I was in a bad mood because he was too drunk to be any good,” he fibs the last part. Lance had actually been very gentle with him, making sure he was taken care of properly, but that was in some cases worse, and Keith doesn't want to admit to how cared for he felt.

“There’s gotta be more than that!” Pidge spins around on the bar stool anti-clockwise as Keith walks the length of the bar.

“Um, he was kinda cute? I guess,” Keith frowns. “He kept crying about his ex, which was annoying.”

“OK, but I need better info than that!” they scoff. “Names! Age! Occupation! Dick si-”

“No to that last one, Pid.”

“Tch.”

Keith rolls his eyes, moving around the bar. It's always quiet on Wednesdays, no matter the hour, so he decids to sit down at the bar with Pidge.

“I don't know all that much, really,” he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “I think his name was Lance? Lance Rivera?”

Pidge practically spits out their water at that, choking and splattering until Keith gives them a firm pat on the back.

“You slept with Lance Rivera! Holy Shit!”

Keith frowns, anxiety gnawing at him suddenly. “You know him?”

“I used to live down the street from him, yeah,” Pidge grins, a faint recollection seeming to appear in their eyes. “Him and our chef, Hunk, were probably my best friends when we were all in school, even with the huge age gap. But I _am_ smart for my age,” they brag. But there's pride mixed into their posture; its not everyday someone can say they qualify as a professor of engineering and experimental mechanics at just nineteen.

“You're smarter than just about everyone, Pidge.”

“True.”

They share a laugh. Keith feels his tension ease a little bit.

“So… a one night stand with Lance,” Pidge whistles, impressed, and Keith's tension flares up again. “I kind of want to congratulate you,”

“What?” Keith glances up from the bar, where he’d been drawing wet circles with some droplets, and regards the teen beside him with narrow eyes. “Why would you congratulate me for sleeping with one of your friends?”

“Lance is the definition of a hopeless romantic,” the brunette snorts, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. “He falls in love quickly, goes overboard on the romantic dates and presents and holidays, is as loyal as a dog. And then gets dumped like that.” They snap their fingers, then sigh. “He never has a lasting relationship for some reason. With women, anyway. Apparently they don't want someone who worships them and plans a future with them,” there's a roll of their eyes. A customer comes through the doorway just then, and since Keith's technically still been banned from working the lunch shift thanks to his stunt over the weekend, it's Pidge that jumps up and goes around the bar to serve them.

It gives Keith time to think about what his shorter colleague said.

Lance is apparently a hopeless romantic, who treasures his partners and is extremely loyal and dedicated. It doesn't make sense to Keith that he couldn't keep a relationship. Maybe he has a bad sense of humour or some sort of bad habit. Then he catches on to something Pidge had said. Or rather, left out.

“What about with men, then?” he asks, forgetting that he's not meant to be interested in Lance anymore.

Pidge quirks the side of their lip up in a half-smirk, and Keith seems to realise that they'd played him into being curious about Lance. However, the smirk soon drops away into a small frown.

“I only know about one relationship Lance had with a guy.” they admit. “I didn't find out until after the fifth time they broke up what that the guy was actually doing to him. I wanted to fucking murder him. Still do, actually.” The muscles in Pidge's wiry arms and hands flexed with tension as the cleaned glasses with a rag, and Keith is genuinely worried that they’d break one.

“It was that bad?” he feels stupid asking, but he can't really believe that anyone would stay with someone like that, who treats them badly and breaks up with them more than once.

Then again, who is he to say any of that? Pretty hypocritical.

“It was probably worse, actually,” Pidge sighs, throwing the rag in the sink behind the bar. “Lance never told us the whole of it. I know bits and pieces, but its it's not my place to tell you his sob story. You should learn them yourself. I will bet good money that he left you his number right?”

Keith remains silent, making Pidge sigh again.

“You're hopeless. Here you are, needing a stable man in your life, and ignoring him. And there Lance is, needing someone who won't be an asshole to him, and he's being avoided.” they glare pointedly. “And then there's me, stuck in between these two dumbasses.”

“No nice person has a random one night stand the night they're dumped,” Keith mutters adamantly, glaring back. “Even if he had the nicest personality in the world it doesn't mean his ‘feelings’, or whatever he felt for me in that moment, are actually real. Rebound affection is something I know all too well, remember?” he’s all but growling now, and the patron at the other end of the room is starting to notice their conversation.

“Stop being a distrustful pissbaby!” Pidge snaps, slamming their hands on the bar and attempting to lean over to get in his face. “Boo-hoo, you got your heart broken a couple times. It happens to everyone one way or another! Lance has had his heart broken more times than I can count and he always stands back on his feet after every time! He’s probably your perfect match, in my opinion - since I know both of you well - so why are you letting the circumstances of how you met be the deciding factor?!”

 _“Because I'm scared of being used again!”_ Keith screams, standing up so fast that knocks the bar stool over and it falls into the table behind him, sending beer mats and condiments fly in over the tile floors. “Is that what you wanted me to say?! _Fine!_ I _AM_ scared! They realise it isn't genuine love and that it was just temporary and _I'm_ always ending up the one left broken! I don't want to go through being abandoned _again_ and _again_ !” his voice keeps raising, he knows he should stop because he can tell the patron behind him is concerned and the look on Pidge's face makes him feel terrible, but he couldn't control the swell of emotions that he'd been keeping bundled since long ago. “First my fucking _parents-_ ” he spits the word, and he sees Pidge wince visibly- “then _every_ set of foster parents I had until meeting Shiro! And then my _only childhood friend,_  all through school and college! _Every. Single. One_ of them used me and got rid of me! The only people that haven't gotten rid of me so far in my life are Shiro and Allura and _you_! So yeah, sorry I'm not welcoming anyone else with open arms!”

He doesn't bother picking up the bar stool or the knocked over things. He takes the long way to the staff room, purposefully avoiding the bar, and takes the exit near the kitchen to leave with his jacket and phone, leaving the business’s keys on the shelf and sending a quick text to Allura that he was sick and that he couldn't come in tonight.

He’'ll feel guilty about it all tomorrow. But tonight he needs to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #SorryForTheAngst2k16
> 
> ummm yeah???
> 
> please tell me what you think


	4. Let's Try This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is just really, really tired and needs a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, a few things to clear up:
> 
> -this is an aged up fic if you haven't guessed already  
> -ages go:  
> Lance: 25, Keith:24, Hunk:25, Pidge: 19, Shiro: early 30s, Allura: early 30s, Coran: late 40s, Alfor: early 60s  
> everyone else in their 20s unless stated otherwise
> 
> and aged-up tag has been added to the tag list.
> 
> second thing is Pidge, Hunk and Lance are -childhood- friends, who ended up at different colleges and unis. They're still all good friends but in the real world, let's face it, you lose a bit of contact. Hunk didn't know it was Lance who made the reservation because there's plenty of people out there with the surname Rivera. so if anyone noticed that their interactions with each other are a bit distanced it's like that.
> 
>  
> 
> and can i just say, thank you for all the interest this fic had gotten in just under 3 weeks. honestly so amazing and the nice people of the klance fandom is such a blessing for fic writers like me. Thanks guys <3

He does feel really guilty about it. Guilty enough to avoid Pidge by taking Thursday off too. He’s spread across his sofa - yep, the one Lance was on barely a week ago, and Keith can imagine the smell of his cologne still lingering on the pillow - and the TV is playing a marathon of Jeremy Kyle episodes that are so disastrous that they're actually doing a decent job of keeping him distracted right up until his doorbell rings.

He glances at the clock with a frown; he hadn't ordered any food that needed delivering, so there shouldn't be anyone stopping by. Plus, it's like 5 in the evening, so it isn't the postman. There's a knock, but it's hesitant this time, slow and quiet. He decides to go check it out.

He swings open the door to Lance.

Lance, dressed again in a smart button up shirt - white with red pinstripes in fact - and a tie that is shockingly white with rainbow stripes going across it in zigzag patterns. He's wearing casual blue jeans and white converse trainers with it this time, though.

And… are those… they are. _Glasses._

“Oh thank god,” Lance mutters as soon as he sees Keith on the other side of the door, pushing the rectangular, navy-framed lenses up the bridge of his nose. “I thought I got the address wrong for a second there.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Keith tries to sound angry, because seriously - who's ever had to deal with a hook-up showing up at their house again randomly? However, he feels more embarrassed than anything else - Lance is dressed nicely, probably fresh from work, and Keith is standing there in old flannel pajama bottoms, and an old shirt he uses for painting with, and both him and the shirt could have done with a wash yesterday.

“Hey, I'm not trying to be creepy on purpose!” Lance jerks his hands up innocently.

“So you're _aware_ that you're being kinda creepy,” Keith jibes.

Lance gives him a half-hearted glare. “I stopped by your workplace first, actually. It's your own fault that I'm _here_ since _you_ weren't _there._ ”

“It's my night off,” the darker haired man replies under his breath.

“Really? Because Pidge told me otherwise, ya know.” he jabs a pointer finger at him with a squint.

He groans. He'd forgotten that Pidge and Lance were friends.

“What did they tell you,” he sighs, ready to just let Lance go off on him with whatever insults or shit he felt like saying so he can shut the door and go back to the couch. And be miserable about the very person in front of him, looking too good to be true.

“Just that you two work together and that you've had a falling out over me,” he looks sheepish, wincing and almost looking guilty even though he hadn't even been there when they fought.

“It wasn't just over you,” muttering, Keith leans against the door frame, probably looking as awkward as he felt. Which is incredibly. Somehow, with Lance dressed how he is and looking more mature than him at the moment, Keith feels a little bit like a child being scolded by an adult for fighting with another kid.

Lances smiles sadly at him, bittersweet and empathising.  “I know. Can we talk for a bit? Tonight, or some other time if right now is bad?”

He really doesn't want to talk it out just now. His argument with Pidge is still fresh in his mind and the subject of it is right in front of him and if Lance doesn't notice for himself how anxious and awkward Keith is feeling right now he may just start to panic, because _seriously why does this happen I argued with Pidge about Lance and my past shit and then he's here in front me, I haven't even thought about what to say to Pidge yet let alone if I was ever going to talk to Lance about -any- of this because just because someone says that another person is a nice guy doesn't always MEAN they're nice - this could all go horribly wrong and then I'll have lost two people in as many days I really can't deal with this-_

“-hey! Keith, hey, hey buddy? My pal? You alright? Try taking some deep breaths, okay? You're okay.”

There are hands on his shoulders, large and warm and slightly familiar as they brush over him with a small shake. It's then that his mind comes back into focus on his surroundings and he realises that his breathing is erratic and the man in front of him is looking mildly terrified and concerned for him. As grey eyes meet dark blue, and array of emotions fly by in both of their eyes.

In Keith's, there's pain, aching, longing and an almost childish need for comfort.

In Lance’s, there's concern, empathy, his own painful memories and a warm emotion that Keith most definitely craved right now.

His knees give way suddenly, and quickly the hands on his shoulders are grabbing him, catching his weight as Keith stumbles backwards and together the two of them end up against Keith's hallway wall, the latter’s head being cradled protectively by one of Lance’s hands, the other gripping his shirt sleeve. Keith's own hands were clutching the taller man's shirt tightly near the collar, most likely wrinkling it.

In the shock of the moment, neither say anything, Keith’s eyes are watering a little from the intense showdown with Lance’s bright blues and he can't figure out what to say, because the man in front of him is giving him a look that only says  _care_ and _protection_. The honesty of his gaze kind of scares him a little.

_“He falls in love quickly, and is as loyal as a dog. Apparently his exes didn't want someone to worship them and plan a future with them.”_

He didn't take Pidge seriously when they'd said that, but maybe.. maybe they were right.

So when Lance asks him if he's okay, he shakes his head. And when Lance kicks his front door shut and embraces him quietly as he sobs out the rest of his anxiety and fears, he pretends not to notice as Lance cries with him.

* * *

 

Pidge doesn't work on Fridays, so it isn't until Saturday that Keith manages to speak to them.

Since Saturdays were fairly busy, he decides to wait outside the bar, a little ways down the street in the direction Pidge usually approaches from.

Pidge appears eventually, trudging along with their backpack of gear and computer parts and other gizmos that they carry around with them, and if it weren't for the fact that Keith is watching them he wouldn't have noticed the small frown that appears for a split second when they spot him, instantly going neutral again within a moment as they walk past him.

“Pidge, I know you saw me,” he groans, taking large steps to catch up with the speedy little brat.

“Stranger danger! Stranger danger!” they scowl over their shoulder, which annoys Keith. They were short enough to get away with looking roughly 12, and Keith glares holes in the back of their head as people watch him try to catch up with his tiny colleague.

“Pidge Gunderson you're a college student! I work with you in a _bar!_ ” he feels like he's trying to clarify the situation to the strangers giving him the evil eye, but honestly it just pisses him off when Pidge uses their height to make him or others look creepy.

“Really? I wouldn't know, since I haven't exactly seen you around lately!” they snap back.

Keith groans, and with a burst of speed they run and stop in front of the short brunette.

“Will you listen to me? I'm trying to apologise!”

Pidge’s incredibly annoying nonchalant expression makes him fume, but he stays silent as he waits for Pidge to hear him out.

“Sure, okay.” they change their stance, leaning back on their left hip and pointing their right foot outwards. “Grovel and kiss my foot, peasant.”

“You can kiss my ass,” Keith snorts back. “Listen, okay? I'm sorry about snapping at you, and knocking shit over and leaving it for you to clean up, and for ditching my shifts to avoid you. I was an asshole, and I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did,” he gets quieter as he continues. “I know you're only looking out for me. And I'm sorry I don't tell you more often that I'm glad you're my friend, because I am. Thanks for trying to look after me and my shitty love life.”

Pidge is silent for a good while before sighing and letting their neutral expression wash away to a small smirk.

“About time you noticed how great I am. Honestly, I just don't get enough recognition as the good doer I truly aim to be.”

Keith smacks them on the shoulder, and the two of them walk towards the bar side by side.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For sending Lance to my apartment the other night. Asshole.”

Pidge laughs loudly. “Shit, yeah! I forgot about that. How'd it go?” They grin mischievously.

Keith swallows hard, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “Well….”

* * *

 

_(Flashback)_

It could have been minutes, or hours. But Keith stood in Lance’s embrace for so long that he felt like sleeping there, because it was safe, and warm, and he was a _person_ and a person that Keith desperately wanted to trust and pour his heart out to.

But it wasn't the right moment. He couldn't bring himself to say, ‘here's what happened to me and that's why I'm being shit to you,’ to Lance. And he knows Lance won't tell him everything about himself straight away either. But maybe that was okay.

Reluctantly, he pulled his face away from the taller man's shirt and glanced up at him through his hair.

“Do you wanna stay for a bit? I can order pizza or something,” he tried not to sound too hopeful, or anxious, but his voice was still a bit shaky from crying, and he's sure his pale skin was all blotchy too. He probably looked sick and not very attractive at all, really.

Despite this, Lance looked surprised at his offer, his own eyes slightly red as he grins happily at him.

“Really? That sounds great, I'm starving!” he dug out his wallet out if his back pocket with one hand, the other now resting on Keith's hip as if it was naturally meant to be there. “I know this great place, actually, so I can pay-”

“Don't worry about it,” Keith snatched up the pizza place’s index card. “I'll pay. For being an ass and never calling,” he mumbled the last bit.

Lance smiled warmly at him, no ill feelings in his expression.

“Sure. Then I'll have a medium ham and pineapple.”

Keith stared at him, appalled.

“You have _pineapple_ on your _pizza_?”

-

-

Lance left at close to 10pm. They spent a while arguing and discussing the pineapple-on-pizza thing, and eventually Lance got Keith to try a bite, and the latter had to grudgingly admit that _‘it wasn't that bad’._

They'd spent the evening watching the Jeremy Kyle show, taking empty bets on whether or not a low life was the baby daddy, or whether the questioned partner cheated or not.

As the clock rolled around to 10pm, Lance started sighing dramatically and making a fuss of untangling himself from the couch cushions and Keith, where they'd drifted closer and closer together throughout the night and eventually had Keith tucked under Lance’s longer arms and his legs kicked into Lance’s lap.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Keith yawned as he made no effort to move and let Lance get up properly. Lance didn't seem to notice as he continued trying to get up without disturbing Keith.

“Yeah, Mondays to Fridays, 8am to 5pm.”

“Sounds like a pretty set routine. What do you do?” he asked, curious.

“I'm a school teacher,” Lance finally made it to his feet, turning and grinning at him. “I teach 3rd grade maths and sports. And this year I was made a home room teacher too!” he told him this proudly, affection lacing his tone as he talked about his job, and oddly enough this seemed to make him all the more attractive and appealing to Keith.

 _Pidge did say he was a family man…_ a little voice reminded him.

“Guessing you hate kids then,” he grinned, laughing when Lance started fake laughing obnoxiously.

“Pah! Kids! They're the worst!” he started grinning too, unable to help himself. “Nah. My family is pretty big, I'm a middle kid myself. I grew up looking after my younger siblings and cousins.”

He stretched his arms above his head, and anything Keith wanted to say in reply was forgotten as he caught a glimpse of Lance’s stomach as his shirt raised up, and the familiar freckled skin and slight happy trail left his thoughts wandering and his skin flushing.

“I- I'll see you out, then.”

Lance didn't seem to notice his inner turmoil, and he reached for his wallet and phone on the coffee table, and yawned as he made his way to the front door.

“Oh yeah, one sec,” Keith darted to his room quickly, and grabbed up Lance’s tie from the previous week ran back to the front door where Lance stood waiting.

“Oh, that tie.” he seems surprised to see it, like he forgot it was here.

“You probably need it, right?” Keith held it up awkwardly.

Lance seemed to think for a moment, then grinned cheekily.

“I'll have it back, but only if you promise to actually text me? And not wait a week,” he added, chuckling at himself.

Keith managed not to stammer too much, but still felt nervous flutters in his limbs as he weakly shoved Lance out of the door with the tie.

“Get going, Rivera.”

The taller man laughed, taking the first couple of steps down the stairway that leads to Keith’s second floor flat, then paused, clearing their throat.

"Can we start again? I don't want your only memories of me to be me crying over my ex and then pinning you to your wall. Twice."

Keith blinked, surprised, and it took him a moment to think through what Lance was suggesting. Starting as friends after hooking up was definitely a new one for him.

“As…..as long as you don’t make me eat pineapple pizza again,” he stammered weakly, the tiny smile on his face feeling fake and awkward.

If Lance noticed, he didn’t show it. In fact, he started grinning happily and turned to quickly step down the stairs.

“Call me!” Lance shouted as he walked away, voice high pitched and girlish, and made Keith laugh when passers-by stopped to stare. He watched Lance get in a relatively nice model blue car before shutting the door with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah not as angsty!!! I've had mixed comments, some liking the angst and some wanting more fluff, so I'll try and keep it as even as possible :^)
> 
> PLEASE comment!!!! It makes me so happy!!!!!
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT:::::
> 
> this might be the last chapter for a little while because I started work today, and it's a brand new building which is still partially under construction, which means I'm SWAMPED WITH WORK. We have like, 9 days before opening and the building is 55'000 square feet in size. And we gotta get it all done and stocked before opening.  
> I also have another fic on the go, which is something I'm collabing with a friend and its VERY important to us so I need to use what spare time I have on that. ((If you like One Piece and Zoro x Sanji go check it out it's Midwinter Song on my profile))
> 
> TLDR I'm gonna be pretty busy for the next 3 weeks at least. 
> 
> -Kaii x


	5. Daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again y'all, sorry for the wait. I could only write a small filler for now in between work and other life events!

 

 

 

> **[11:05] Hey, its Keith.**
> 
> **_[11:11] Heyyy budddy! Thanks for textin!!_ **

 

Keith snorts. He didn’t know when to text Lance at first, since he knew he worked during school hours, but he felt bad for not messaging after a few days. However he didn’t think he’d get a reply so soon either on a Monday morning.

 

 

 

 

> **[11:13] How’s your work going? On your break?**
> 
> **_[11:18] It’s awesome! My class is the best!!_ **
> 
> **_[11:20] Also sorry for slow replies gotta look professional and all that, plus classes are gonna start again soon_ **
> 
> **[11:23] It’s fine, just text when you’re free I guess? I’m starting work at 5 though so…**
> 
> **_[11:25] no worries!!! TTYL!!_ **

 

Keith sighs, locking his phone screen and flopping down on the couch dramatically. He doesn’t really have anything to do before work, and even if he did he doesn’t feel productive enough to do it. He could go jogging again, but he doesn’t feel like it.

He doesn’t know how it happens, but he goes from dozing quietly to full on dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming, because he’s in his school uniform again, and he’s in a classroom full of people he barely remembers and the thick coil of discomfort is settled in his stomach like a familiar weight. There’s also a familiar figure in front of him, one seat to the left, broad shoulders and short dark hair painfully recognisable.

The form turns back to look at him, he can hear the deep, cocky tone of the figure’s voice as he calls out to Keith in a voice like velvet, and he hates the way his dream-heart still flutters at it, and he tries to change the outcome of the dream-turning-nightmare.

But he can't. He is glued in place as he listens to the cocky tone of voice mocks him openly in the classroom, and their classmates laugh along with him, and then dream moves forwards to another scene, where the mocking boy pushes Keith up against a deserted hallway wall, kissing him so painfully and rough, and hearing him tell him how much Keith means to him, that he always stays loyal to him no matter what he did to him - _a true friend_ , the grinning jackal of an ass had said to him, more than once.

He’d always known that Keith wanted more. And he exploited it so well, isolating him and controlling him. The memories appear one after the other: bullied by him in school, best friends outside of school, his _‘emotional support’_ when his relationships with other people went wrong. He always left Keith before he woke after those nights, and wouldn't speak to him for days after, as if he knew he was walking a dangerous line.

The dream made its usual arc through his memories, and as it peaks at one of the worst moments, Lance somehow pops into the scene. He's a little fuzzy and blurred in his mind's eye, since Keith doesn't know what he looked like back in high school, but he is still tall and gangly and in this moment he is standing between himself and the bullies, specifically _him._ He's yelling and spitting curses at them, and then dream-Lance is grabbing him and pulling him along with him as they run, and the dream changes as the scene goes somewhere new,  and real-Keith’s awareness starts to fade as the nightmare dissipates into a pleasant dream. They're some place beautiful and quiet, and Lance's head is resting in his hands as he lies flat on his back on the ground beside Keith, both of them lying in a grass field with the sun overhead and a faint wind around them. He feels like they've been there forever, not just in the field they're in but at this stage of comfort between them, like it's natural to be with each other in the middle of nowhere.

Dream-Lance turns to face him, and Keith realises he is already facing the other boy, except they aren't boys like before, they're about college age, only a little younger than they are in reality. Lance is talking away as what seems to be the usual thing with him, and he can feel himself warm at the love in Lance's expression, like all the affection in his being was aimed at Keith. Lance in the dream goes quiet for a moment, then starts wiggling closer, rolling onto his side and pushing up onto his forearm to lean towards Keith intently, movements slow and gentle, giving the darker haired teen time to move if he wants, but he doesn't. He can only lie still as Lance's free hand reaches over and brushes his face, pushing hair from his cheek and caressing his jaw and neck, and then those soft fingers are pressing lightly into his skin as he tilts Keith’s head towards him, and everything becomes a blur as Lance kisses him, and the touch of his lips against his own was so vivid and real feeling that Keith was genuinely sad when he woke from that moment a few seconds later by the sound of his phone beeping. He wipes sleep and a little wetness - actual tears over a tender moment, really Keith? - and grabs it, partially hoping it's a message from Lance himself, partially hoping it isn't about him somehow discovering that Keith dreamt about them having a cute kiss together.

 

 

 

 

> **_[12:57] hey Keith my buddy my pal your favourite Pidgey needs you to cover them from like 2 bc guess what they forgot??? That's right, they have a freaking robotics project they forgot to do that's due tomorrow. Thanks love you bye x_ **

 

Keith rolls his eyes. At least now he wasn't bored.

 

 

 

 

> **[12:58] yeah I guess - you owe me though**
> 
> **_[12:59] do i though ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_ **
> 
> **[12:59] yes…**
> 
> **_[13:00] ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_ **
> 
> **[13:00] uh.. We’re even then??**
> 
> **_[13:00] thank s by yyyee_ **

 

Keith rolls his eyes again, this time with an accompanying sigh.  He has just enough time to shower before he has to leave, so that's what he does, and he dresses up in the formal attire that was required of him as head barman; tight fitting black trousers, and a sleek maroon button-up underneath a velvety black waistcoat. He keeps the top two buttons open on his shirt, ties his hair back, then grabs his jacket, wallet, phone and keys and after slipping on his shiny black boots, he leaves.

* * *

Pidge looks thrilled to see him twenty minutes later. Their short curly hair is wild where it had escaped their ponytail, and they have three drinks on the go being made behind the bar. It is quite full for a Monday afternoon, and though the lunch menu only consists of sandwiches and soups, it's crowded enough for the restaurant area to be open for seating as well, which is unusual. People are talking and shouting to each other, and at Pidge, who is ignoring them for the most part in order to complete the drinks in front of them. They look stressed, and despite the crowd of alcoholic patrons opposite them, Keith knew it is more likely the robotics project that they are worried about than the patrons.

“Alright, everyone shut up!” he yells over the noise, and the men at the bar start to quieten. Keith let his ice cold demeanour take over as he makes eye contact with everyone in the bar and lounge area, making it known that he wasn’t messing around. “The next person to yell at the barman gets barred, no arguing.”

A man turns and gives him a look over. “And who the fuck are y-”

“Barred, out you go.” Keith jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards the entrance as he strolls over and lets himself behind the bar next to Pidge.

The man gapes, looking shocked, then stands to his feet, a good head taller than Keith himself. “I said, who the fuck are you?”

Keith doesn’t give him more than a glance before serving the drink Pidge finishes. “The head bartender. Door’s over there, good bye.”

“I want to speak to the manager!”

“I don’t think you understand Sir,” Keith sighs, rolling his shoulders as he folds his sleeves up to his elbows. “I _am_ the manager.”

The guy looks even more furious, his round face going redder by the moment, his eyes straining as he stares down at Keith, neither blinking. Finally he gives out a shuddering growl, like he just manages to reign down on his anger, and he grabs his things from the bar and leaves.

“Nice job, he was a real pain,” Pidge sighs, sparing a moment to wipe down their glasses. They put them back on a moment later, and pour themselves a glass of lemonade as Keith takes over collecting orders from the rest of the now-murmuring-quietly customers. The music playing in the background could actually be heard again.

“I couldn’t have you lashing out on customers,” the older bartender shrugs. Pidge makes a face at him before rushing out to the backroom with an easy ‘thank you, bae’ over their shoulder.

* * *

Nyma is on lunch shift, Keith learns, as she flits in and out of the kitchen and lounge area, occasionally stopping to chat with groups of customers flirtatiously, earning her tips with her usual ways. Her boyfriend Rolo is most likely in the kitchen making the food, since Hunk is usually busy during the day with his work as a TA at the local engineering college. The flow of work steadies and slows as the lunch crowd drifts out and the evening crowd starts to wander in for pre-drinks before their meals. Rolo and Nyma call goodbyes as they leave, and Hunk greets him as he enters an hour before the official opening of the restaurant area. Half an hour before the first orders start, a couple part-time waiters and cooking assistants hurry in and start working, easing Keith’s work a little as he’d been bar-tending and serving drinks to people at tables too.

Once the guests with reservations have been seated and seen to, guests without reservations start appearing and are seated, and then the orders for drinks starts coming in again. The rush thrills him, especially when people ask for more complicated drinks instead of just wines or beers. It settles down again as people begin ordering food and making small talk with their dinner guests.

He flags one of the part-timers down and asks them to hold down the bar while he took a few minutes break. He usually doesn’t need one, but he’d felt his phone vibrate a few times during the shift and he wants to check it.

 

 

 

 

> **[1] Message from {Pidgey}**
> 
> **[3] Messages from {Lance}**
> 
>  
> 
> **_[14:11] dude bro dudester thanks sm for the cover i love ya smooches (~˘▾˘)~_ **
> 
> **> >>[17:47] ew, children’s germs**
> 
>  
> 
> **_[14:19] lunchbreak for me!!! The dinner ladies here have the Second Best spaghetti meatballs for Meatball Monday lemme tell ya._ **
> 
> **_[14:20] the Best ofc being my mom’s bc she can make ANYthing and it’ll be the best meal you’ve ever had._ **
> 
> **_[15:35] all right, kids have gone home now! Gonna guess you’re busy so I’m just gonna mark some homework and stuff, text me when youre free x_ **
> 
> **> >>[17:50] Hey sorry, I got called in early bc Pidge had a project to do last minute.. I’m about to go back to work but I’ll text you again later?**

 

Sighing, Keith tries to calm his heartbeat down to a steady pace by wandering into the staff bathroom and splashing water onto his face. It's just a couple of random texts, but the fact that Lance had thought to message him during his free time, even about mundane things like food and such, makes him happy. Someone just keeping him updated with his life and including him in it, even in such a small way really makes a difference with him and he doesn’t know what to think of the rush of warmth that creeps up on him like goosebumps. He nearly jumps as his phone vibrates again and he quickly dries his face and hands.

 

 

 

 

> **_[17:52] no problem, i understand :) I’m done with work myself, so I think I’m gonna head home and eat.. Unless I can swing by? If you want?_ **
> 
>  

Keith panics, surprised by the sudden forwardness of Lance’s message. He chews on his lip as he thinks of what to write.

 

 

 

 

> **[17:54] Um, you could, but it’s the dinner hour so we haven’t really got anything cheap like sandwiches atm, so unless you’re good with that or bar snacks I’d say go home and have yourself something proper**
> 
> **_[17:55] ahh, youre right, sorry! I try and limit my fancy dinners to special occasions so maybe I’ll pass, but hopefully I can see you soon outside of work instead?_ **
> 
> **[17:57] ..... maybe**

 

Unable to spare his messages another glance, Keith quickly locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket, and heads back into work. He feels it vibrate again a few minutes later but he can’t check it even if he wants to due to the crowded population of the bar. He makes polite conversation with the patrons every now and then, particularly with the faces he recognises to be regulars, and even manages a light-hearted smirk in between. Time flies by with a quick break of scoffing down a slice of Hunk’s steak and ale pie at around 8pm and suddenly it's closing time. Everyone is slow to filter out of the restaurant at 11pm, and by the time Keith is the last one out it’s way later than it should be, and he’s barely able to hold his hands steady as he locks up.

He walks home quickly, eager to get indoors before midnight, a sort of small challenge he creates to encourage himself to walk home at a faster pace than usual. He trudges speedily along until he gets home with a minute to spare, and he feels silly when a pleased bubble rises in his chest at his silly game. He gets undressed and puts the kettle on, eager to warm up after walking in the cold. He dresses in comfy - and clean - sweatpants, and pulls on an old t-shirt from a concert he went to as a teenager, then returns to the kitchen to make himself a hot water bottle. It’s only when he gets back to his room that he notices the notification light flashing on his phone, and he all but dives for it on his bed.

 

 

 

 

> **[5] Messages from {Lance}**

 

Keith almost laughs in disbelief, before hurrying to open the texts.

 

 

 

 

> **_[17:58] asfhfksajfljsa maybe??? Really keith???!! that’s not fair because that could be yes or no???_ **
> 
> **_[18:01] dammit  you’ve gone back to work haven’t you. Right well then I’m gonna take that maybe as a HELL yEAH which means I’m totally gonna make plans!_ **
> 
> **_[19:40] taking you somewhere that serves alcohol is probably a bad idea right? Right. Okay. Continue as you were._ **
> 
> **_[21:35] got it, its all sorted. Finito. You will LOVE it. OwO_ **
> 
> **_[22:59] you’ll be done with work in a few mins so get home safe!!! X_ **

 

Keith flops down across his bed, rolling when his scalding hot water bottle presses into his chest and he instead starfishes bonelessly on his back, unable to contain the small whine escaping his mouth. This is so new to him, he doesn’t know how to physically react other than lay there fidgeting uncomfortably. There are butterflies in his stomach, fighting his nerves, and his skin felt hot all over as he flushes. Just the thought of Lance planning some sort of trip - he refuses to even _think_ the word date - with him is sending his thoughts straight into overdrive, whirring so fast he comes up blank. What does he do? How does he respond to those texts? He lies there for so long that he very nearly forgets to text back at all, and when he does he forgets that Lance is probably already asleep.

 

 

 

 

> **[00:15] hi, i got home fine. Um?? What are the plans bc idk if we’ve both got days off at the same time**
> 
> **[00:15] shit the time, sorry. This text isn’t helping either uhhhhhh good night reply in the morning or something**
> 
>  

He falls asleep thinking about Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to message me on
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/zombie_kaiisan)
> 
>  
> 
> or
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://zombie-kaiisan.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> !! :D 
> 
> I'm going on a mini holiday for a couple of days, to see my long distance bestie and go to a Welcome To Night Vale show together!! :D
> 
> Please be kind and leave some comments because it'll make me happy and want to write more!!
> 
> I have another Klance fic called Dance in the Dark that is complete! Feel free to have a look in the mean time :)


	6. Bonding Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2am guys 
> 
> I was undecided about a LOT of things to do with Shiro's role in this fic but I think it's starting to settle into place!! :D
> 
> Also thank you for sticking around with my late ass lmao

He wakes up earlier than usual, thanks to his phone going off near his ear. It’s two short buzzes, indicating a text message. His mind barely registers it, though he still jolts into consciousness hard enough that he realises that he’s no longer dreaming. Awareness starts to filter into his senses: the traffic passing by on the street below; the children of the family in the flat below running around as they get ready for school; the cool, slightly stuffy air of his room and his warm, warm bed. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he can feel the sunlight peeking through gaps in his curtains.

Keith groans in annoyance as he tries to unlock his phone without opening his eyes, and reluctantly peeks one open a small crack to see what the notification is. He sees that the time is a little after seven in the morning and it's a text from Lance that had woken him. Normally a text from the other man would make him grin, but alas, Keith is not a morning person.

 

 

> **_[07:03] hey no worries i sleep like the dead haha! Sorry if this wakes you but I’m heading to work soon - well there’s a teacher training day this upcoming Friday, it only takes up an hour or so in the morning so maybe we can do something after that?? If not I have saturday afternoons and Sundays off, and ofc school holidays off too haha. Whichever of those days are good for you!!_ **

 

Keith rubs at his eyes a few times to try and wake himself up fully and read the text through again. How can Lance be so chipper at this hour? He doesn’t know if he could handle being awake at this time every day like the other guy.

 

 

> **[07:09] i cant believe im awake at this hour. I usually work fridays, but i can see about swapping with someone if that’s the only day that works. If not Sunday is ok with me. Can i go back to sleep now**
> 
> **_[07:10] not a morning person huh?? Lmao i should have remembered that sorry, you didn’t even stir when i was_ **
> 
> **_[07:10] uuuuhhhhhhh nvm ignore that sorry_ **
> 
> **[07:11] when you left after we hooked up. I told you not to feel guilty remember. I dont care.**
> 
> **_[07:15] ….. Is that really true though? Im serious when I say i dont want that to affect how things are between us._ **

 

His mind is slow at processing the information, but when it does Keith frowns, anxiety starting to gnaw in his stomach. He didn’t want to talk about such a serious topic so early in the morning. He didn’t want to remember how good that night together had felt, how Lance’s skin against his own had felt so _right,_ how badly he wants that kind of intimacy again - he shoves it all aside as he replies.

 

 

> **[07:18] its already happened, there’s nothing we can do about that. Like i said, dont worry about me, you needed comfort and i gave it.**
> 
> **_[07:20] your feelings are important too, Keith. Don’t go putting your needs aside for me or anyone else anymore okay? Tell me how you feel about us, or anything else too._ **

 

The raven-haired man’s eyes start to sting as he drops his phone and buries his face under the covers of his duvet, pressing his palms to his eyes as he struggles to breathe. _Your feelings are important too. Your feelings are important too. Your feelings are important too._

When was the last time someone told Keith that? He figures it must’ve been when he was first adopted by Shiro’s family. He’d been 18 then, on the edge of being moved off to a halfway house by the orphanage, and Shiro, then a graduating college student and a TA from his school happened to have caught him running away. He’d had enough of being ignored by the institution, used by his supposed ‘friend’, and having his decisions made for him. He’d been planning on disappearing when Shiro dragged him to his home and convinced his parents that Keith needed their help. He spent several nights there, fighting him on it, telling him he wasn’t going to burden his family on top of everything else he fucks up in his life - and Shiro just hugged him, held him as he struggled to move away, and told him it's okay. His feelings are valid. He is important, and cared for. He can be loved.

Of course, not all of his problems had been solved simply by being adopted - college had been hell, maybe even worse than high school - but he had people to go to when it got too much those times around, and he was given care and advice when he needed it, asked for it, instead of being ignored. He matured, he likes to believe.

 

How he felt right now is similar to then, only the fluttering of his heart is less _heroic admiration_ and more _romantic_ , which troubles him. From an arm’s length away, his phone buzzes again, and he fumbles around to find it again.

 

 

> **_[07:27] Keith?? You okay? :/ i hope you’ve just gone back to sleep… message me whenever and I’ll reply ASAP ok? I’m heading into class now but I’ll check in on ya when break happens. Stay safe xx_ **
> 
> **[07:29] I’m okay. Everything’s okay. Thank you.**
> 
> **_[07:30] Good. I’ll call ya later?_ **
> 
> **[07:31] ..Sure.**

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Keith receives texts from Lance at a little after eleven in the morning and one in the afternoon checking up on him. He does his weekly food shop after the second one, picking up some fresh fruits to counterbalance the amount of ready meals in his basket. He does buy a few veggie soups, if that counts. He never was enthusiastic about cooking.

 

He texts Allura when he gets back home, asking for Friday off and that he can come in to work a different day if need be. The reply is a simple yes, and that he didn’t need to swap to a different shift unless he wants to. He left it at that, not wanting to put in the effort of an extra shift for once.

 

He unpacks everything at home, putting away the ready meals and the fruits and the other necessities. He is left with his guilty pleasure: cookie mix. He doesn’t really enjoy cooking, and he isn’t particularly good at it, but this only needs a couple spoonfuls of water and turns out delicious every time, especially when he adds a square of chocolate in the middle of the mix. He adds the water, mixes until the dough came together and moulds, before splitting the dough into eight little chunks.

His phone vibrates against the bar counter and begins to ring.

He struggles to wipe the dough from his hands for a moment, before reaching over and answering.

“Hey.”

_“Hey, it’s Lance!”_

“Oh. Hi.” Keith presses his phone into the gap between his shoulder and ear and held it there with practised ease. Over the phone, Lance’s voice is a little different, maybe a bit deeper, or maybe it is simply richer, being so close to his ear in that sense.

_“Hi yourself. Are you busy right now, or..?”_

“Nah.. how are you?” He wrestles awkwardly with the packaging of the chocolate bar. Dammit, Galaxy, stop being difficult.

 _“Not bad! Kids had some tests to do today, so they aren’t really happy with me right now,”_ Lance laughs, and it surprises Keith with how it makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. The warm feeling spreads through his being as Lance continues. _“But I’m letting them pick what sport to play in PE to make up for it, so I think they’ll forgive me.”_

“I’m sure they will.”

_“Haha. Anyway, what are you up to?”_

“Like, right now?”

_“Yeah.”_

“I’m breaking chocolate into little pieces.” He finally manages to get the wrapper open, and begins snapping the chocolate pieces into smaller chunks.

 _“Wow, okay, what did that chocolate ever do to you?”_ He can hear Lance snort and chuckle through the phone, the crackle of noise like music to his ears. Lance’s laugh is surprisingly melodic.

“The wrapper wouldn’t open, for a start.” Keith quips back with a small smirk, grabbing one of the chunks of cookie dough and a square of the chocolate, and starts pushing the chocolate into the dough and rolling it together into a ball. “That, and I’m making cookies, so..”

 _“Oooh, you bake?!”_ The teacher’s excitement is palpable, making Keith puff out a breath of laughter through his nose. He feels a little awkward, admitting to his activities. He is an adult making cookies on his day off and childishly adding extra chocolate. With his diet, it's a wonder that he never gains weight.

“God no. Premade mix - just add water. I like adding extra chocolate to it though.”

Lance makes a noise of interest before he hears a bell ring loudly in the background.

_“Damn, that’s the bell for the end of lunch. I gotta go.”_

“Ah, alright. I’ll text you later or something.”

_“Sure. Keith?”_

“Yeah?”

_“Did you, um, find out what day’s good for you?”_

Oh. Their ‘plans’ - which at this point totally felt like a date.

“Oh. Yeah. I uh, I’ve got Friday off.” he murmurs, rolling the last cookie-chocolate ball and placing it on the baking tray. He switches the oven on and set it to the right temperature.

 _“Great!”_ he can practically hear Lance dancing on the spot. _“Okay, I really gotta go now, but I’ll text you later! Seeya!”_

“Bye.”

He hangs up on Keith, leaving the dialling tone to ring on in his ear until he cleans his hands enough to grab it again. Setting his phone to the side a moment later, he takes the tray of cookies and places them in the now warm oven, setting the timer for about 10 minutes, and takes a moment to breathe.

Lance.

Lance who calls him like he promises. Lance who calls whilst on a break at his work place. Who must have been thinking of him and wanting to call. Lance who clearly wants to meet with him, is earnestly thinking about him and their plans. Lance who sounds genuinely excited.

Lance who grins openly and honestly like an overgrown child. Who's hair tufts up in odd places no matter how neatly it's brushed. Who looks good with and without glasses. Who is all broad shoulders and long legs. With deep blue eyes like the sea. With large, gentle hands that hold him like he's precious. With that one, oddly cute mole on his left hip. A voice that makes his breath hitch when he laughs and heat flare in his stomach when he pants in his ear-

The timer goes off, and Keith is mildly relieved for the distraction.

He turns off the appliance at the wall and carefully retrieves the cookies from the now cooling oven. They're a little lumpy from the chocolate squares, but otherwise a nice golden colour and deliciously sweet smelling.

He leaves them to cool on a plate on the counter top and goes to set up a movie on Netflix - perhaps a romcom, he isn't sure just yet - when his phone goes off again. He absolutely doesn't vault over the couch for it.

“Hello?”

_“Hey baby bro!”_

“Oh, it's just you Shiro.” Keith sighs, diving back onto the couch with his phone in hand.

 _“Ouch,”_ the deep voice at the end chuckles. _“and you sounded so perky when you first answered. Were you expecting someone else?”_

“...no.”

 _“You were! Oh my god, Keith, were you waiting on a_ **_booty call?_ ** _”_ Shiro barely contains his laughter enough to finish talking.

“What are you, twelve?! What the fuck, how are you an adult.” Keith rolls his eyes with a small grunt.

 _“You_ were _waiting on someone though, tell me all.”_

“Nah. Tell me why you were calling instead.”

_“Ehh you're so boring Keith. I was wondering if you wanted to grab some takeout and watch that new star wars movie with me?”_

“Shiro, don't you have a 9pm lecture to give on Tuesdays?”

_“Yeah?”_

“Isn't that in like, 3 hours?”

_“Congratulations bro, I always knew you'd learn to count eventually.”_

“Fuck off.”

_“Language, you little shit. Anyway I already sent a mass email to my class telling them the class will start late and to go to the screening tonight- there's 20% off for uni students if they go to that time slot and my professor’s badge counts too, so.”_

“You are a horrible influence on your students.”

_“I'm also the only professor to have 100% attendance for all of my classes and mostly A-grade kids, so I can't be that bad.”_

“That’s because they all think you’re attractive. And you let them call you Space Dad.”

_“I know! Last year’s seniors got me a mug too - I make a good dad I think.”_

“None of them know your loser side like I do, you would disappoint them all.”

Shiro gasps down the phone at him, indignant, and with a grin Keith finally indulges him.

“Fine, I guess I can come get takeout with you.”

_“Well maybe I don't want you to come over anymore.”_

“You are seriously a child, how are you a senior astronomy professor?”

_“The ‘senior’ was unnecessary, and you're definitely uninvited now.”_

“‘Kay, I'll keep these cookies for myself then…”

_“You know that you're my favourite little brother right?”_

Keith laughs, hard. With his free hand, he flicks the tv off and gets up, heading into the kitchen to find a container for the cookies.

“Pick me up in ten and you can have some cookies?”

_“Deal. See ya in a bit Keitheroni!”_

Shiro cut the line before he can respond, as usual.

It's hard to believe that just six years ago, Shiro was almost a complete stranger to him. That Keith was just a shitty high school brat and Shiro a twenty-something TA. But so much had happened in such a short time span to completely change his world and for all the banter aside he really does appreciate everything Shiro does for him.

He packs up the cookies and leaves them on the counter to grab on his way out, before changing into skinny jeans and pulling a sweater on over his t-shirt. He’s just pulling on his boots when a knock rattles his front door and Shiro lets himself in.

“Keith seriously - you need to lock your door sometimes, anyone could just walk right in.”

“I lock up when I leave, stop worrying.” He stands up straight once his boots were on, and immediately gets bombarded with a hug from the taller man.

It's a formality at this point - Shiro hugging him when he greets him. Shiro hugged him a lot when he was younger, angrier, lonelier. When he hated himself and felt worthless. Shiro always hugs him when he needs it, reminding him that he is cared for. His hugs were less sentimental now - but the purpose is the same: to remind Keith that Shiro cares. Shiro’s parents do it too, and while Keith doesn’t like physical contact all that much for several reasons, their hugs have grown on him.

“Heeeey.” Shiro hums happily, squeezing the shorter man tight with a happy grin.

Keith tries to glare, but mostly focuses on struggling. “OK FINE - hi Shiro please let me breathe.”

“Good enough.” Shiro lets him go and pats his shoulders instead. “Let’s go - I ordered before I left so it should be ready to be picked up by the time we get there - I ordered your usual for you.”

“Thanks,” Keith smiles genuinely, feeling more than a little pleased that Shiro knew something as insignificant as his favourite order. Keith remembers to lock up as they leave, and within minutes they were picking up their chinese - and a few minutes more they were at Shiro’s.

Shiro’s house is semi-detached, a quiet couple his only neighbour on one side, and a small garden that wraps around from the front to the back. The two-bedroom place is medium sized, a little big for him to be living in on his own, but roomy enough considering his future plans of eventually starting a family. It's been a while since his last visit, so while Shiro sorts the food out, Keith snoops around - as any brother rightfully should.

There are fresh flowers on the living room coffee table - nothing new. Shiro regularly buys flowers, a tribute to his first part-time job he had back in high school, and the same elderly lady still runs the business, apparently.

The flower vase is new though: a sleek silver and black metallic cylinder held the light blue flowers. Interesting, but not that interesting.

Nothing new in the downstairs toilet, and he doesn’t want to go in the kitchen and risk being caught, so he treks upstairs and sneakily inspects the bedrooms. The guestroom is immaculately clean - not even wrinkled sheets. The upstairs bathroom is next, and immediately Keith knows he hit gold.

For a start, there's fruity-scented shampoo and conditioners in the shower. Shiro is a strictly vanilla/coconut type of guy, and Keith really can’t picture him smelling of _mangos_. The next clue were the towels - purple ones. Definitely new. The third and most obvious one: a second toothbrush on the sink. A bright pink one.

With a grin, Keith launches himself down the stairs and into the kitchen with loud footsteps and a louder voice.

“Shiro you _horndog_ you did it! You invited Allura over didn’t you!?” He cackles almost evilly when the older man jumps.

“You little shit,” Shiro curses, wiping sauce from his hands, more carefully from his right, which is his prosthetic. Once he's sure the sauce is gone from the joints, he looks up at the smirking man across from him with a glare. “Were you snooping?”

“Yeah,” Keith admits without shame, a lewd twist to his smirk. “I’m right, aren’t I? Allura stayed over right? _Riiight?”_

“Yes! Okay jeez,” Shiro sighs heavily, though a satisfied little smile replaces his earlier frown. “She stayed over on the weekend for a couple nights.”

“Congrats, dude. I’m happy for you.” Keith means it, genuinely. Shiro and Allura had been flirting back and forth for _years_ , since Shiro first introduced Keith to Allura and helped him get the job at The Altean Lion. They’d gone to college together apparently, had a couple shared classes together, and been great friends that wobbled back and forth between friendship and flirting at more for a while. Three years ago, they finally started dating - and took it slow. So. Slow.

Both of them had their reasons for the slow steps, Keith knew; Shiro because of his prosthetic arm and the memories of his car accident - ever the damper on his confidence, no matter how well he hid it - and Allura the anxiety and depression she suffers from the traumatic loss of her mother and sister when she was small, and the isolation she felt as a result of becoming an only child and shutting everyone out. Despite their age, it is the first serious romantic relationship either of them have ever had, and they are rightfully nervous.

These three years have been difficult for both of them - letting each other in, showing these painful sides to each other - and the fact that Allura had stayed for a few nights is definitely a big step. He thinks it is, anyway, since it means that Allura and Shiro probably shared his bed, and Keith knew that Shiro worried about his prosthetic influencing his relationship. By the look on Shiro’s face though, relaxed and slightly embarrassed, he guesses none of Shiro’s fears came to life.

“Yeah,” Shiro murmurs, still dispensing food items onto plates, though his attention isn’t quite focused on it. He seems to be remembering something fond, and smiles. “Thank you.”

The food is ready a moment later, and they took their plates over to the living room where they argue over remote rights and eventually Keith won - selecting 500 Days of Summer, his earlier choice when he had been planning on staying at home. Shiro snorts in amusement, but doesn’t mention the genre.

“So…. did you get laid?”

“Keith, that is no way to talk about your brother and your boss’s private life.”

“I’m taking that as a yes- _ow, fuck!”_

“Language.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont deserve any but I would LOVE some COMMENTS. 
> 
> This might be the last update for the year - so in that case Happy Holidays and New Years! Hope you all have a good end to 2016!


	7. The Not Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt kinda bad leaving yall with that filler chapter so I wrote some more! I originally tried to finish this in time for Christmas but... woops.

 

 

> **_[11:13] DOBBY IS A FREE ELF!!_ **
> 
> **[11:13] I take it the meeting’s over now?**
> 
> **_[11:13] Yep!! On my way to yours now, wear something casual and good for walking!! And a coat bc its getting cold already!_ **
> 
> **[11:14] Alriiiight**

 

Keith frowns at the phone in his hand, already feeling the nerves building in his stomach. While nothing is said for definite, it is starting to feel more and more like a date. He even took a longer shower than usual, and made an effort to choose matching clothes, which is more difficult than his regular work clothes. He had eventually chosen some grey skinny jeans, and a simple plaid button-up over a t-shirt. Most of his work clothes came from Shiro, in style, since the professor has an abundance of smart clothes and seems to always follow the trends effortlessly. He usually picks up some new clothes for Keith whenever he needed it, mostly formal things but also casual clothes that he knew would suit him. Keith himself mostly bought from thrift stores or shirts with funny texts or images on them.

His hair is refusing to cooperate with him today, so he tucks most of it under a dark red woollen beanie, scowling at his reflection in the hallway mirror as tufts of his fringe flattened across his forehead at odd angles. He’s still fussing with his appearance and  checking for all of his belongings - wallet, phone, keys - when he hears rapid knocking at his door, and realises that Lance is here already.

He’s nearly breathless as he sweeps the door open in a rush - and then the rest of the air in his lungs is knocked from him as he’s greeted with Lance standing a few steps away, looking... well.. unfairly good.

His slim-fitting blue jeans seem to show off his long legs effortlessly, tight in all the right places and most likely around his ass if Keith had to guess. His timberlands are gleaming and scuff-free and matching his belt, which help emphasise his slender hips along with the tight, long-sleeved greyish-blue shirt and dark green winter jacket. His hair is a professional mess, presumably thanks to the wind outside, though he doesn’t seemed fussed about it. He's also wearing his glasses, and grins when he opens the door.

“Hey!” Lance gives a little bounce on his heels and a wave. “You all good to go?”

“Um, yeah, one second.” Keith tries hard to stay steady, but on the inside his nerves are sparking all over his body, causing his muscles to jerk and twitch suddenly, and he can only hope he is hiding it well enough. He grabs his coat and steps out of the apartment, locking up behind him and sliding the keys into the inside coat pocket. He feels like a puffy, gothic marshmallow in this jacket, a present from Shiro last year, and as Lance hums his way down the steps towards his car he can’t help but feel a little awkward and envious of Lance’s casual style compared to his leftover ‘problem teenager’ style.

“So I hope you don’t mind,” Lance calls as he strolls over to his little blue car. “But where I planned to go today is a little bit of a drive? So if you’re cool with it I can drive us there?” He shuffles from foot to foot as he talks, looking surprisingly nervous. Keith recalls the texts he’d gotten from the other man about his efforts to plan today and feels a little better knowing he isn’t the only one nervous.

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t mean to be so kurt, but Lance seems to accept that as a simple answer and beams at him brightly, unlocking the car and opening the passenger seat for Keith to clamber into. It’s a small car, but Keith discovers that it’s surprisingly clean, and has space enough for his legs and more.

“So!” Lance slides into the driver’s seat smoothly, buckling up and immediately tapping around with his keys and steering wheel, anything within reach. “Did you wanna know about where we’re going? Or you good with surprises?”

Keith blinks back at him, unsure. “Um, I’m not really.. whatever you think’s better?”

“Well, it might be a little busy, but we’re going during a school day, so I think it’ll be alright.” Lance shrugs, a small jittery motion, and starts the car. “Speaking of school, the teacher’s meeting I had this morning was actually pretty interesting, we’re going to be having a mini olympics-style sports day in the summer, which is all the way into next year already, but, you know, never too early to plan these things…”

He continues to talk, going into details over different things in a smooth, warm tone of voice that seems to both relax Keith’s nerves and keep his attention at the same time. The radio in the car is nothing but background noise on its lowest setting, and occasionally Keith glances out his passenger window and notices the scenery change from city to town to village, to farm roads and back into towns. Mostly, his attention is on Lance.

Lance keeps his eyes on the road at all times, for which the raven-haired man is glad, because he wouldn’t know what to say if he was caught watching Lance ramble away.  There’s a softness to Lance’s features as he talks, a half-smile unable to fully form because his lips are always moving, just like his fingers tap and twist and drum against the steering wheel, occasionally in time to a song on the radio, most often to his own talking. He watches different expressions appear on his face, amusement and humour or interest or irritation, depending on the story. It seems like Lance talks through a lot of emotions, not just sadness. It's soothing too, not having to force conversation for once. Occasionally Lance would say or ask something that would require a nod or a shrug, but he never pries information from him and always pauses during moments where it seemed like Keith laughs or might have something he wants to input, but otherwise is happy to keep up the momentum on his own. It could have been the lighting of the cloudy winter day, or the almost-muted hum of a guitar on the radio, but the level of comfort Keith feels on this car ride, with a near-stranger going to an unknown location, is surprisingly high. He feels like he's with a friend.

A few minutes later, and Lance is pulling into a populated car park, with groups of people passing them as he searches for a free spot.

“Okay, so, it’s a little busy like I thought…” Lance murmurs, eyeing the groups of college kids and adults wandering around. “But there aren’t any screaming kids at least, right?”

“Where are we?” Keith glances around, but can’t see much besides cars.

“A couple towns away from the city. It’s the time of year for winter festivals!” Lance grins happily, then it turns sheepish. “The city has a festival too, but I figure you might like a smaller, quieter event with less people…”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, surprised at Lance’s consideration. “I don’t really like crowds, so quieter is better.”

“Good,” Lance breathes back in reply, a pleased smile forming. He finds a spot and cooes eagerly, pulling in and parking quickly. “Let’s go let’s go!”

They exit and start walking into the town. The roads have been closed to make space for the market stalls and the predicted crowds. There's a lot to take in at once, and Keith is relieved when Lance walks on ahead and makes a path through the people for the both of them, and subconsciously stays close behind him.

The stalls are interesting, to say the least. There's just so many different things being sold, ranging from fresh foods and cakes to handmade crafts and jewellery. He stops at a stall with a hundreds of tiny glass animals posed across the table, as well as larger glass creatures and products like glass cups and ornaments. Animals of all sizes and species covered every inch of the front half of the table, some as small as his thumbnail and others that could sit in the palm of his hand, in extraordinary detail and colour. On the levels of shelving behind them sat beautiful tall glasses decorated with colourful flowers, birds and other designs using colour shards of glass. Glass chimes hung from hangers on the roof of the stall too, some tinkling with metal bars and others simply twisting on the spot.

“These are so cute!” Lance _oohs_ and _ahhs_ over the tiny animals, delicately poking a glass panda with his index finger.

“Yeah, they’re all so detailed too.” Keith hums with interest. His eyes flutter over different things as Lance strikes up conversation with the stallholder, an older gentleman with calloused, work-weary hands and a kind expression on his face as he talks about his creations. He keeps returning to the first thing that first caught his eye, however: a beautiful red and orange phoenix in flight, wings spread and blazing, supported by a stem and weighted base of clear glass. The bird is incredibly detailed, down to individual feathers in the wings and tail, and the way the colours merge together so smoothly entrances him. Altogether, the piece is about six inches tall in height, and Keith’s favourite thing on the whole table. He almost doesn’t hear Lance talking humorously to the stallholder until a weathered hand grasps the phoenix and starts wrapping it in bubble wrap, whilst the man’s wife hands Lance some change with a thank you.

“What are you doing?” Keith tries not to glare, honestly. He's mostly startled and suddenly anxious as he watches the man across from him pack the secured ornament into a small box.

“I couldn’t help it,” Lance shrugs sheepishly, as if he was trying not to grin and giggle. “It’s just I could see how much you liked it - Mr Ark and I here ran out of conversation a couple minutes ago and yet you were still so fixated on his works so - I thought I’d get it for you.” He scratches at his neck with one hand as the other now takes the small plastic bag and immediately holds it out for Keith to take. “Merry early Christmas?”

“Lance.” Keith doesn’t know what to do. He feels on edge, like any second now he's going to break, he’s unsure where to look, how to act, what to say. They’ve subconsciously moved to the far side of the stall, to allow more people to view it, and Keith is at least glad they weren’t in the thick of the crowd, but he's starting to have a hard time meeting Lance’s eyes. And breathing. Breathing is suddenly difficult. “Lance I.. I don’t even know how much that costs.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lance smiles at him easily, so easily, like everything was simple.

“Of course I’m going to worry about it!” Keith snaps back at him, for once unable to hold back on his temper. “What kind of idiot buys a present for a near-stranger?”

Lance looks a little hurt, which dampens his anger a little, though not completely.

“The kind of idiot who wants to make that stranger happy.” He holds up the bag again, a small peaceful gesture, the kind that left the decision to take it up to Keith. He struggles to draw breath for a moment, caught up in burning holes into Lance’s timberlands and nice jeans and warm green coat and eventually he meets his eyes. His kind, kind eyes that asks nothing from him but to accept his kindness.

Hesitantly, Keith takes the gift.

“I’ll repay you.” He chokes out softly. “If you see something here you like - you’ll tell me?”

Lance nods, though his eyes gleam in a manner that suggests that it was only slightly possible.

 

Keith keeps his promise a few stalls later - and almost immediately regrets it.

It’s another craft stall, this time belonging to a whittler who’d made several wooden figurines and trinkets. Lance has been absolutely bowled over by a little owl carving, and Keith insists on buying it to pay Lance back for earlier. As he pays, the stallholder points out some parts of the owl they’d both missed on inspection - a small semi circle hole at the top of the owl’s flat head, and a small circular hole between its wings at the back, and the gentleman instructs Lance to ‘give it a test shot’ with a knowing grin.

Lance looks like a child meeting Father Christmas, promptly pressing his lips to the owl’s head and blowing - and squeals excitedly when a very authentic owl hoot is released like a whistle.

“Keith!” he whirls around, bouncing on his feet. “It hoots! _Hoots!_ Like a real owl!” He blows into the owl-whistle with several short bursts, and even Keith has to admit it sounds very close to the real animal. However Lance refuses to put it away for even a moment, keeping it in his pocket and _hoot_ ing between stalls whenever he thinks Keith isn’t looking. It's endearing at first, but the sound is going to irritate him sooner rather than later.

 

 _Thankfully_ , Lance decides it’s time for food and leads him through the market stalls towards a side street with mostly food and drink vendors.

“Listen, Christmas markets are great for very authentic foods and drinks, right?” Lance answers the question himself, “Exactly. And at these types of festivals, the most authentic market food is hogroast!”

“Hog..roast?”

Lance blinks at him, suddenly worried. “Please tell me you eat meat?”

“I do, I just don’t think I’ve ever had this before,” Keith shrugs as they fall into line in front of the hogroast stall.

“It’s a seasonal thing - I don’t think I’ve seen it anywhere else besides at these winter festivals.” Lance shrugs back at him, using the momentum to bump their shoulders together slightly. Unsure of whether or not the movement was intentional or not, Keith simply remains silent for a moment before turning forwards and inspecting the food that people are buying. It seems like it's pork that was spit-roasted and then shredded, then served in a bun with other fillings - Keith sees what could possibly be maybe grilled onions, or sauerkraut, or stuffings, and as they get closer to the stall the smells reach his senses enough to alert him to how hungry he’d become in the last couple of hours.

They reach their turn in line, and Lance orders first, thankfully taking the lead once again, ordering a hogroast bun with apple stuffing and crackling. Keith only has a moment to glance over the other fillings available before his turn - and ends up getting the apple stuffing too. It does sound nice, at least, and it's the filling that had been running out fast, which he can only assume is a good sign.

They pay separately and leave to find a bench a moment later, walking away from the main street with steaming pork buns wrapped in thin tissues warming their hands. There are a couple already occupied by groups of middle-aged ladies or elderly, but there 's a free park bench towards the end of the small park a few feet away, which is good enough. Lance sits down with an exaggerated sigh of relief, and immediately takes a big bite of his bun, wincing at the burning sensation of the hot pork but still giving Keith a thumbs up. Keith snorts in amusement and sits down quietly. He gives it a minute to cool a little before taking a bite, and it pleasantly surprised by how good it tastes.

 

The sun is starting to sink low in the sky when they finally reach the farthest end of the festivities, where the main road branches out into a town square, filled to the brim with children’s rides and carnival games.

“Alright Keither, I think it’s time.” Lance puffs out his chest, hands on hips as he spins to stop in front of the shorter man. He lifts his left hand to poke him in the chest. “I’m challenging you!”

Bubbles of anxiety burst where Lance’s finger poke him, though they're followed quickly by curiosity and a rush of energy. “Oh yeah? To what?”

“Carnival games of course!” Lance throws his arms upwards and outwards excitedly, drawing attention to himself and he grins and spins around. “Look at all the games, dude!”

“And what does the loser have to do?” Keith crosses his arms with a raised brow.

Lance smirks back at him. “Loser has to go on a ride of the winner’s choice.”

Keith considers it for a moment, looking around. Most of the rides are aimed at children: an old-fashioned carousel, a small Ferris wheel, spinning teacups and bumper cars. No matter what they pick, two grown adults on a children’s ride would be embarrassing. But for some reason, Keith cam only feel excitement building up.

He fixes Lance a confident glare. “You’re on.”

 

The first thing they compete at is the test of strength. The aim of the game is to whack a heavy hammer onto a pedal, which launches a weight up the pole, and if you can send it to the very top it hits a bell. There are goading markers from bottom to top; the lowest ones insulting and borderline aggressive, and from the middle to the top they become more complimentary and praising. They toss a coin to see who went first, and Lance wins.

“Alright, try not to swoon too much,” he winks, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Keith as he warms up his arms. He pays the guy for a single swing, grabs the hammer and tests out its weight. It appears fairly heavy, and for a second Lance makes it look like he wouldn’t be able to lift it, but then he grins, swings it back, then around and over his shoulder, and down onto the pedal, sending the little weight almost to the very top, one and a half markers from the bell.

“Hell yeah!” Lance woops, handing the hammer over to the game host again and collecting some prize tickets. “Did ya see that? Were you impressed?” He grins cockily towards Keith, and if they weren’t in the middle of a show-off the younger man might’ve flushed a little at Lance’s confident smirk. However, Keith is in the mood for competing now, and there's no way he's gonna lose in a show of strength.

“Don’t start acting like you’ve won just yet,” Keith grins back, handing Lance his jacket back as well as his own puffy black coat and the bag with the glass phoenix. He pays for a go as well, and grabs the hammer with ease. As he suspects, it’s quite heavy, though nothing like the weights he used to lift in gym classes. Without even preparing his arms, he lifts it with quick momentum and brings it down, _hard._

**_Ding!_ **

The weight seems to slam into the bell within a mere second, before taking its time to slide back down. There’s a murmuring as Keith realises he has an audience, as a few people besides Lance have seen him hit the bell. A couple college girls start clapping teasingly, one even winks at him, and he starts to flush and fidget with his beanie under the attention. The attention he wants though is from someone else, however, and he barely manages to look at Lance to gouge his reaction.

Well.

For a start, he’s pouting.

At first glance, that might be what everyone else sees. His brows are pulled tight in surprise, lips pressed shut in a pout, and he looks as though Keith had just told him Santa wasn’t real; a mix of disbelief and childish irritation. But underneath all that, Keith could tell that he's a little impressed, through the way he sucked in the corner of his lip instead pushing it out into a full pout, and the tense grip on upper arms keeping his hands in place.

Keith receives a handful of prize tickets as well, though he seems to have won a couple more than Lance. When he returns to claim his jacket back, Lance held it hostage.

“We’re doing all the games, just so you know!” He warns, “So it’s whoever wins overall, you haven’t won just yet, alright?”

Keith grins, a mixture of amusement and arrogance. “I think you’re just delaying the inevitable, but sure, I’ll play along.”

Lance blinks at his playfulness in surprise, before chuckling happily. The display of affection laced in Lance’s appearance makes Keith’s heart swell a little.

 

Ring toss is next, and much to Keith’s dismay, he loses. His hand-to-eye coordination fails him as he tries to judge the distances between himself and the bottles, and the various sizes of the rings mess with his judgement too. He lands some of the bigger rings successfully, but the smaller rings bounce off the glass bottles with a _clink._ Lance on the other hand, is some kind of pro: whirling the rings around his fingers before tossing them. He lands each of his rings perfectly, even when he's still laughing hard from Keith’s last failed attempt. Out of 5, Keith had landed 3 and Lance got full score.

“That’s a win each, Keithy-boy,” Lance wiggles his brows as he collects his tickets. “Feeling the heat now?”

“It’s only just getting started,” Keith mutters, and marches forward to the next game.

 

A pattern develops as the competition continues: Keith seems to win the games that require strength, proven when he became the top score at a boxing game, and Lance seems to win the games that require good hand-to-eye coordination, like the rifle shooting game. At one point they run for the bumper cars, which are finally free from groups of college kids, and proceed to crash into each other so often that they get kicked off the ride. Both agree that that couldn’t count as a draw since they never got to play until the end. They're at two wins each, and it's late into the evening by now, stalls are starting to close around them.

“Whaddaya say, one last match?” Lance hops over to the last game stall, which had yet to start closing. He pays for the both of them as Keith walks over.

“Sure.”

He’s handed a little pot with five red darts inside, and he sees that Lance has five blue ones. There are two dart boards set up on the back wall of the stall.

“The one with the highest score wins,” Lance whispers, then throws his first one.

Keith takes his time; he knows he’s at a disadvantage with this type of game, from the results of today he thinks that Lance is pretty skilled at target games like this. However, he used to play darts all the time with Shiro and Pidge at The Altean Lion, before he was hired. Back then Shiro used to only have a couple classes to teach a week, so they’d spend Friday nights down at the bar and play, whilst getting drinks served by Allura. It's fair enough to say he’d gotten quite good at it by now, but he isn’t sure if it's enough to beat Lance.

They don’t watch each other throw their darts, instead focusing on their own and hoping for the best. When they finally run out, the stall holder stands in front of the boards to count their scores.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Lance yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “But I’m thinking about the carousel.”

“No way, I’m picking the teacups,” Keith twists his back until it pops. Lance nudges him with an elbow, resulting in Keith nudging back, and the two of them jab at each other fiercely until the stallholder turns back around.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man whistles. “You two tied.”

“What?!” Lance nearly shrieks. “How’s that even possible?”

“Don’t ask me how possibilities work, kiddo.” He steps aside to show them the boards. There they could see: they’d both hit the 20, the 17, the 3 twice, and the 10. They weren’t mirror images of each other, some had landed in different areas of the score, but the final total was the same.

“You two have a weird sort of connection going on, if you ask me,” the stallholder mumbles as he hands them over some prize tickets.

Keith stays silent at that remark.

“Yeah sure, thanks dude.” Lance snatches both of their prize tickets with one hand and Keith’s jacket with the other, leading them to the large booth at the end of the street where the prize tickets could be handed in. Once there, the two of them count their tickets - sure enough, they’d tied - and together look through the prizes they could exchange their tickets for.

“Hey look at that!” Lance jabs his finger onto the glass. “Voltron Defender of the Universe anniversary rings!”

“Wasn’t that show from the 80’s?” Keith murmurs, following Lance’s finger and spotting the rings nestled in little boxes.

“Yes, and it was _brilliant,_ ” Lance grins. “It’s a classic and like, so bad it’s good.”

“Huh, I think I’ve seen some of it before, maybe.”

“Hey, we should get one,” Lance hands over his tickets before Keith could respond. “Voltron ring please!”

Glancing over the other prizes, he doesn’t really see anything else he’d want, so he does the same.

“We match,” Lance wiggles his fingers at him, the lion-robot head glimmering on his left middle finger. He takes it back off after a moment and puts it back in its box and into his pocket. Keith shakes his head at him with a sigh and drops his into his little bag.

Music starts up from further down the street, and the pair follow it to a small stage where a choir has started singing. It's dusk by now, and the street is lit only by streetlamps and strings of festive lights over the stalls and stage. A chilly wind makes the atmosphere quieten around them, and the voices of the singers echo as people stop to listen.

“This was fun,” Keith finds himself saying suddenly.

Lance jumps, not expecting him to talk. “Oh? I’m glad!” he grins.

“I still think I should have won though..” Keith smirks, and Lance blows a raspberry.

“Clearly we both know who the real winner is here,” he digs back into his pocket and retrieves the owl, making it hoot. When Keith laughs, Lance’s gaze gets a little softer. “Who knew we’d have so much fun kicking each other’s asses? Next time we should go paintballing, or maybe lazertag, that’d be awesome.”

A pause, and a cold stone sits in Keith’s stomach. “Next time?”

Lance watches his reaction. “Yeah? Why not?”

“Because,” Keith trails off… because? What's the problem? Keith had fun today, really, and besides Shiro and the people he works with he hasn’t had this much fun with someone in a long time. But Lance is someone he’d hooked up with, he's just supposed to be a one night fling. Whatever Lance might feel, it's only temporary. Temporary could mean a month, or a year, or even longer than that, but there will come a time when Lance realises he had just been projecting his romantic feelings onto ‘the next best thing’ instead of who he really liked. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone. Whatever the reason, he's scared of the results of what might come later.

He feels a cold thumb brush against his cheek and realises he’s started crying. Just barely so; a single tear escaping as he was lost in thought.

“Hey, hey,” Lance whispers, moving in close and blocking Keith from other people’s view. “You okay? You need a minute?”

He doesn’t know what he needs right now, so he shrugs. Lance slings an arm around him, keeping Keith’s head tucked towards him as he moves him from the crowd to a less populated area down an alleyway. In any other situation, Keith would feel ashamed at his uselessness and the way he was being treated like a child, but it's comforting being with someone who knows what to do for once when he himself isn’t even capable of thinking. Lance takes his bag from him, setting it down against the wall and he leans back against it a little, bringing Keith with him slightly.

“This okay?” he says under his breath, and Keith only nods. “Alright. Take a minute to just breathe.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, head heavy and hurting. A pain was starting up behind his eyes.

“S’alright.” He feels the taller man shrug easily.

“You have the patience of a fucking saint.” Keith grits out, only half-joking. He's angry at himself for acting like an idiot around this guy all the time; he’s surprised Lance is still being nice to him, considering the way he was pushing him away all the time.

“The side effect of simultaneously having many siblings and working with little kids,” Lance chuckles, “is learning what to do when they’re upset, what they need, and how to read them when they can’t or won’t say what’s wrong.”

“So I was right, I am being treated like a child.” Keith coughs dryly.

“You’re being treated like a person who needs a minute to breathe and think.”

Keith doesn’t know how to respond to that and stays silent. It’s true, he needs to focus on his thoughts. He can’t carry on pretending to be okay to Lance if he’s going to sticking around in his life. He knows that telling the truth is what’s best here, he’s beyond the point of saying ‘I’m fine’. He has to let him know at least _something_ , a small part of what he’s trying to get involved with. He tries thinking over how to say it in his head, but it’s no good.

“I hate being like this.” He mutters to himself, kicking a pebble on the ground. “Freezing up and panicking and losing control. It happens a lot but I still don’t have any control over it.” He doesn’t look up at Lance but feels him rub his shoulder, where his arm still rests across his back.

“Anxiety, if that’s what it is, is a major bitch.” Lance agrees. “And I’m not gonna tell you I know what you’re going through, because everyone has it different. And coping with it is different for everyone. You just haven’t found yours yet, it’s okay.”

“You really want to stick around for this?” Keith laughs humorlessly. “I mean, I don’t have much to offer besides panic attacks and sex.”

Saying it like that makes him feel cheap, but it's true to him at least. People usually only wanted to use him for his body anyway.

Lance squeezes him tighter. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, you’re not a robot. You are more than your body and your anxiety. You are a human being with a whole range of emotions, memories, experiences and more, capable of doing so much more than what you think. You make people happy, and you deserve to be happy too. You deserve the quiet moments, the mundane life of arguing over who used up the last of the milk, or who snores, or what movie to watch at night. You deserve the happiness you want.”

 _Fuck._ Keith can feel tears dripping from the end of his nose as he hid his face in his jacket, and wordlessly Lance pulls him in properly, arms wrapping around him fully.

“I-” his voice is rough as he confesses, “I’ve only ever been with people who wanted sex. They always leave after. No-one’s stuck around, or ever wanted to hang out just like this, even as a just-friends way. They just leave. So today was..” he sniffs hard, he’s trying desperately not to get anything on Lance’s jacket - “different. Nice.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears Lance whisper, voice as hoarse as his own, and he feels him bury his face in his neck. “I’m so sorry that you were treated in that way. I’m sorry I added to that pain.”

“There were a lot worse people than those hook-ups,” Keith huffs, and he shuffles his arms under Lance’s to squeeze him back lightly. “And like I said… you were different. _Are_ different.”

His neck starts to feel wet and he realises that Lance has started crying with him.

“If I could just have two minutes with everyone that’s ever hurt you, I swear..” he mutters fiercely, but to Keith his stuffed-up nasally voice sounds anything but menacing. He's still grateful for the intentions though.

“I swear,” Lance repeats, lifting his face to look Keith in the eyes with his watery blues. “That  I’m gonna make sure you never feel that pain again. If you let me, I’ll be so, _so_ good to you.”

One of his hands is under the hem of his jacket, rubbing small circles on his lower back, which is soothing. The whole situating is overwhelming for Keith, it's a lot to take in for only a few minutes of talking. His vision blurs as he keeps his eyes locked with Lance’s, scared and insecure and disbelieving as usual.

“Please,” Lance murmurs wetly, tears dripping, a hand resting on Keith’s cheek, “just trust me? I promise I’ll always be there for you when you need me. I’ll support you with all my heart.”

Time seems to stop, his heart is hammering loudly in his ears, louder than the live music a few metres away, and all that he could see was Lance.

“Okay,” Keith whispers, blinking through his tears as he tries to nod his conviction. “No promises but.. I’ll try.”

“Perfect,” Lance smiles at him, and he slowly leans forward to place a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Now let’s go home, shall we?”

Keith nods, and suddenly, all the anxiety and the cold pit and the fog is gone, replaced with a warm hand holding his, a stuffy nose, and a bag carrying mementos that he would cherish for a long, long time to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! This might be the last update for a while, I've got 2 other fics to update now and I'm working straight through to the New Year, so I hope you all have a good one!!  
> Y'all can find me on my twitter: https://twitter.com/kaiisan_
> 
> Have a good new year! Comments are lovely and appreciated <3


	8. Rematch, Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEY LOOK AT THIS ALMOST 7K CHAPTER THAT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE!!
> 
> I actually had to cut a lot out of this to make it work because I realised too late that there's was just too much going on for one chapter, too much new information and stuff, so I'm gonna try and squeeze it into a different chapter.
> 
> IMPORTANT NEWS IN THE END NOTE PLS READ <3

“Keith.”

“Pidge.”

“ _Keeiiith,_ my buddy my pal,” the younger brunette shimmies over as they both pull pints behind the bar for the usual Saturday rush. They bump his elbow against his arm playfully. “I heard you took yesterday off.”

“I did,” Keith agrees. It takes everything in him to keep his face neutral, though inside he's grinning ear to ear, heart pounding stupidly.

“Huh,” Pidge fakes surprise, smirking. “Keith Kogane, actually taking a day off? That’s not the Keith I know.”

“Shuddup. This is all your fault.”

“What do you mean?” Pidge grins fully now, having most likely guessed why Keith is answering vaguely.

“You-! And Lance! You got in my head about him,” Keith mutters hotly under his breath, irritated at having to voice it out loud. “We’ve been talking..”

“Annnnd?” Pidge’s grin is near Cheshire cat in likeness.

Keith rolls his eyes with a sigh as he passes another drink over the bar and takes the man’s money. As he moves over to the register, he groans over his shoulder, “And we met up yesterday, okay?”

“More than okay! This is great, for both of you.” Pidge wanders over with money from another patron. As they fix up the change, Keith leans back against the side of the bar, observing them. They're genuinely happy instead of teasing in this moment, like the fact that two of their friends going out on a kind-of date is the best news ever. “Did it go well? What did you do?”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles as he meets eyes with the eager-looking teenager. “Lance droves us out to some sort of winter market festival a couple towns over, and we bought each other trinkets from the stalls, ate food, listened to live music, challenged each other to those festival games and tied in wins.”

“Really, that sounds awesome!” Pidge laughs, then wiggles their brows. “Super gay and cute, but awesome. What did you get each other? And were they the kinda games with those winning tickets?”

Keith talks about it in more detail as they work; all the stalls he and Lance saw at the market, about the glass phoenix and wooden owl, and the competition and winning matching Voltron anniversary rings. He’s embarrassed at first, and mumbles his way through it, but Pidge coaxes details from him with light quips and queries and Keith feels… happy. Yesterday made him really happy, talking about it to Pidge makes him happy, thinking about Lance in general is making him happy. He feels more energetic, like lightning is running through his whole body, giving him goosebumps every time he thinks of Lance, or Lance’s messy wavy hair, or his childlike grin, or his hands rubbing circles against his back, or his lips on his forehead. Keith wouldn’t say that he’s a very physical person; he’s more the opposite; but Lance’s touches have awakened a sort of craving for contact, a deep-seeded need to be touching him, holding his hand, have some part of their bodies brushing in some way or another. He aches at the thought of being held in Lance’s arms again, wants more gentle kisses, wants more of that closeness that Lance promises him. He isn’t in love with the other man, not yet, but he’s interested now that he’s promised to try and let Lance into his life. Lance is interesting, there’s so much to him that intrigues Keith, particularly the fact that he's still so positive despite what apparently happened to him before with his exes. He and Keith are two sides of the same coin, their pasts likely similar but resulting in large differences between their outlooks on life.

As he gets to the end of the date - calling it the ‘not-date’ or ‘hang-out’ is getting tiring - he leaves out his small panic attack and mentions that Lance suggested a laser tag or paintball match the next time they want to compete. Pidge lights up.

“Paintballing!” they screech excitedly. “We’ve totally gotta do that together!! We can get Hunk into it too, and do a 2v2 match!” They blink up at him hopefully with wide eyes. “Can we?? We haven’t had a group outing in so long.”

Keith chuckles and flicks a finger against the shorter bartender’s head as they walk around each other while working the bar. “Of course we can. Paintballing is more fun with more friends right? Plus you three are the friend group, not me, I should be the one being invited.”

“Technically, Lance invited you on a _date_ , and I’m turning it into a group outing, so I do need to ask.” Pidge laughs.

“I don’t mind, and I’m sure Lance would love to hang out with you guys, so,” Keith shrugs easily.

They work through the rest of their joint time behind the bar quickly and quietly, idle jibes between drinks and bar snacks making the time pass. At the end of their shift Pidge stops by the kitchens and convinces Hunk to join them for paintballing, leaving it to Keith to message Lance later in the evening.

 

 

 

> **[23:38] Hey, you still awake?**
> 
> **_[23:38] kinda hiiiiiiiiiii_ **
> 
> **[23:38] sorry if i woke you**
> 
> **_[23:39] naah you’re good ive just been dozing in front of the TV, wassup?_ **
> 
> **[23:39] you know you mentioned paintballing?**
> 
> **_[23:39] yeah!! :D you wanna go??_ **
> 
> **[23:39] yeah, but i was wondering if you’d like to go with Hunk and Pidge too? Pidge said we could make a 2v2 match**
> 
> **_[23:41] oooohh!!! AWESOME!! HELL YEAH!!_ **
> 
> **_[23:41] i haven’t hung out with those two properly in so long!!! I miss them :(_ **
> 
> **[23:43] they miss you too. That a yes for a group party then?**
> 
> **_[23:43] yeah if you’re down for it!! :D awwh man im so excited now!! I’m going to make us a group chat on Facebook so we can make plans!_ **
> 
>  

There’s a few minutes of silence, and then Keith’s phone pings with a Facebook message of Lance setting up the plans. Keith smiles down at his phone softly, and gets ready for bed.

 

* * *

 

“Looking good, Kogane!” Lance calls to him from his car’s parking space in front of Keith’s apartment complex as he walks down the stairs. Lance eyes up his black running pants and dark, tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt, making him flush slightly. He is well aware that what he's wearing is quite tight, though thankfully the shirt is a little long and loose around the bottom hem and helped to cover the tight material around his crotch. He shrugs on his jacket as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and wills away any redness on his face.

_This outfit is purely for maximum agility during the paintball match._

“You seem so fascinated by my surname now that you know how to pronounce it properly,” Keith murmurs with a small grin. He takes a moment to appreciate Lance’s matching outfit: slim black sweatpants and a black tank top under a zip-up grey hoodie and his green jacket.

Lance pouts at him, barely concealing his playful smile.

“Shhh, whatever, get in the car McMullet.”

The nicknames have increased since their date. Over the week or so that had passed, Lance has become more confident in his teasing, daring to comment on Keith’s hair multiple times and create several nicknames based on it. Keith isn’t used to it at first, but like with most things to do with Lance, he’s grown fond of it, for the most part.

The drive isn’t very long, with there being an amusement centre just on the outskirts at the other side of the city. Hunk is to drive Pidge there, and they’re going to decide teams when everyone's gathered. The amusement centre has several enclosed outdoor arenas for paintball, and two large indoor rooms for laser tag, as well as bowling and other group activities people could do in large groups. It's fairly busy as they arrive, and after finding a parking spot they make their way to the front of the building.

“You excited to see Hunk and Pidge again?” Keith asks under his breath, curious to see Lance’s reactions to the four of them hanging out together.

“Hell yeah,” Lance beams brightly. “I don’t think we hung out at a place like this since Hunk and I were still college students, like, three years ago maybe? We still talk, but… a group outing like this is always more fun.”

Lance suddenly sprints ahead, a scream building in his wake as he races towards two distinct figures, and Keith watches as he throws himself at Hunk with a loud cry and the stronger man catches him easily. Pidge tries to dart away but Lance whips out his arm and snags them, dragging them into a group hug.

As Keith approaches the trio unhurriedly, a rush of affection for these people slows his pace further. Sure, he works well with Hunk at The Altean, and he’s known Pidge for a couple of years now, but up until this point he hasn’t realised exactly how much the two of them mean to him until they all connected further through Lance. Lance flips a switch between them, bringing Keith into their friend group further, going from work friends to regular friends, who meet up outside of work and play around. It’s nice.

Lance tries to drag Keith into the group hug when he gets close enough, though he wiggles away quickly, and the four of them go inside to check in to their booked arena.

“So, for our challenge, Keithy-Keithy,” Lance smirks at him. “Do you want Pidge on your team, or Hunk?”

Pidge replies before he can, however: “I’m taking Hunk, actually. We made a plan on the way over.”

“Yeah, sorry bro,” Hunk grins sheepishly, “But it’s quite awesome and I think we’re gonna win with it.”

“Is this the same plan where you basically shield Pidge from view and you win through the default of Pidge never getting hit?” Lance questions, as if from experience. “Because I will _not_ let that happen again.”

Hunk laughs loudly, and grins sweetly. “Not telling.”

 

They gear up in the team rooms, Hunk and Pidge selecting yellow and green paintballs for their team and leaving Lance and Keith with blue and red. The gear has matching stripes and stitching to their chosen colours and just a few minutes before they were released to the arena, Lance clears his throat.

“So, uh, is red your favourite colour?” he asks, almost awkwardly. Keith glances at him in bewilderment.

“Uhh, I guess so?” he shrugs, “I’ve never really thought about it, but yeah?”

“Nice,” Lance murmurs. “Mine is blue if you haven’t guessed. What about favourite food?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Keith raises a brow at him. “We’re supposed to be gearing up for the match, dumbass.”

“I’m ready!” Lance gestures to his fully geared gun and body. Keith is the same. “I just thought we should bond a bit as a team before we go out there and slay Hunk and Pidge.”

“Wouldn’t that prove more distracting than anything else?”

“Nah, I’m pro at this, unless you aren’t, then..” Lance trails off with a challenging smirk.

Keith scowls. “Cookies. They’re simple to make. Yours?”

Lance perks up like a puppy. “I have lots! If we’re talking sweet food, I love marshmallows, or pancakes. For like, dinner? Can’t beat that hogroast.”

Keith smiles at the memories from the date. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Lance’s smile softens a little as he gazes at him, and above them a timer counts down from 3 minutes. He glances at the countdown, then back at Keith.

“Say, why don’t we have a contest?”

“We’re on the same team?”

“Yeah, it’ll work! However many times each of us hits Hunk or Pidge is how many questions we can ask each other after. And obviously whoever hits them the most wins in that sense too,” he winks.

“So regular twenty questions but as a challenge?” Keith readies his gun as the clock ticks down.

“Well… I was thinking more, you know, kind of serious questions? To really get to know each other?”

“Serious?” Keith frowns.

Lance frowns back at him, nervous. “W-Well, more serious than your favourite food or colour, anyway, ha..”

Keith thinks it over. It’s reasonable, and it’s a light-hearted way to compete and get to know each other better, just as Lance suggests. He nods slightly, and the other man sighs in relief.

Less than a minute until the doors open.

“So, what about your favourite animal?”

“Cats.”

“Really? I pegged you as more of a hamster guy. Or maybe a fish.”

“What the fuck, Lance?”

“I like cats, too, by the way, but I like dogs equally as much. Favourite season?”

“Autumn.”

“Nice. I like Summer.”

The buzzer sounds, and the doors in front of them slowly open.

“Ready to kick ass?”

“Hell yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you tried the same tactics as last time, my little Pigeon.” Lance sighs happily at he claps the shorter teen on the shoulder and smearing the paint there.

“It should’ve worked.” They grumble.

“Yeah, we just didn’t take into account how well you’d work with Keith.” Hunk grins at the red and blue duo, both with a few green and yellow splotches here and there, though noticeably less splatters than Hunk and Pidge altogether..

“We make a good team,” Keith states quietly, which rewards him with two, cat-like cheshire grins and one soft, affectionate smile from Lance. As the four of them enter the end chamber, they spot the TV screen with the scoring system up on the wall, as well as action shots taken from the match. It also shows the number of hits each person got on the other.

“That we do! Sooo, let’s see the results!” Lance whistles. “Pidge hit Keith 4 times and myself twice, and Hunk hit Keith 7 times in the same area through sheer force of will-”

“And multi-shot!”

“-And that, and hit myself five times!”

They pause to clap momentarily, Pidge doing so reluctantly since they're being a sore loser. Keith almost gets the feeling they were hoping that Keith would be as bad as them in shooting games, since he mentioned losing at the festival, but Keith is a quick learner at these things. Plus, he and Lance really did work well together.

“Alright!” Hunk exclaims, taking over the results reading. “Keith hit me 7 times and Pidge 5 times, and Lance hit me 8 times and Pidge 9 times!”

“You sought me out specifically, you bastard.” Pidge yells at the older man as they smack his arm, making Lance laugh.

They go back to the changing rooms and take off the protective gear, leaving them in the special bins to be cleaned later and gather up their things to go. They leave the paint balling section of the amusement centre and go to a nearby fast food joint under the same roof, and after a few minutes of intense arguing Lance foots the group’s bill as a punishment for winning. Keith offers to split it but Lance waves him off with a grin, and the four eat together and catch up on old memories.

“What really amuses me,” Pidge is saying through a mouthful of fries, “is that the first time I met Keith, he said the exact same thing that you did, Lance.”

Said man perks up as he chews his burger. “Really? I can’t even remember that anymore.”

“Well, the situation was different, but it was the same line.” Pidge shrugs. “I walked into the college reception area to collect my class timetable sheet, and Keith was interning behind the desk. So I went up to talk to him, and before I even said anything he was like, _‘Oh, are you lost? Do you need help finding your parents?’_ And I was tempted to leap across the table at him in an instant.”

“You did leap across the table.” Keith mutters with a shake of his head, causing Hunk and Lance to laugh and Pidge to smirk.

“I did. Hopped it like a fence.”

“And you didn’t get into trouble?” Hunk frowns in confusion.

Pidge grins. “Nah. Keith liked my ‘spirit’, and said we were old friends messing around, teacher believed us. He helped me get the job at The Altean Lion too.”

“Did I really ask you if you were lost when we first met?” Lance scratches at his head with his free hand. As Keith watches him talk back and forth with Pidge, he notices a small streak of yellow appear in that spot, and he gestures to Hunk with his eyes, trying to get him to notice.

Hunk almost chokes on a chicken nugget, and nods back subtly, catching on to what Keith's seeing. It isn’t like they aren’t already dirty; Pidge has a red streak in their fringe that they now claimed is the new _‘emo trend, thanks Keith’_  and blue smudges on their hands, and Hunk’s bandanna is now splotched with purple where he’d wiped his paint-covered hand across it. Keith too could feel paint crusting on his cheek, though he isn’t sure what colour. It'ss amusing to see the bright splash of colour in Lance’s unruly hair when he’d stayed mostly clean so far.

The four of them eat and talk like this for another hour, with Pidge insisting that Lance buy them dessert as well, and afterwards Hunk and Pidge go home in the former’s car, threatening to do things to Keith at work if Lance doesn’t make plans with them again soon.

“I’m telling you!” Pidge warns, “the bar is a dangerous place. He could slip, or cut himself on glass, or have a hot drink spilled on him. Just saying…” They trail off, then smirk and hug Lance a final time before getting into the car. Lance and Keith quickly head to Keith’s place as well.

“So,” Lance says casually, wandering into the living room from Keith’s bathroom, having noticed the paint on the ride home. A damp washcloth scrubs the paint from his now wet and curling hair. “In total you got 12 hits earlier, and I got 17, and I think we can both agree that that’s a _lot_ of possible questions.”

Keith glances up at him from his couch, having changed into comfortable sweats and a fresh t-shirt whilst Lance had been occupied. Lance’s expression is neutral, though he seems to fidget on the spot. Keith's palms sweat where they rest in his lap, his breathing is starting to become erratic as he came to the realisation that this is, in fact, a serious situation. This game of questions and answers might reveal some truths about each other that are darker than they might be comfortable talking about.

Keith swallows. “I… um yeah, I’m not sure I want to answer 17 questions.”

“Should we… maybe, half it?” Lance suggests, walking around the back of the couch to sit down on the end opposite Keith. He folds his legs beneath him and sets the cloth down by the mugs of tea Keith had made them when they got in. “17 divides oddly, so I’ll just have 8… I know that still gives me more questions.. But they don’t all have to be super serious, right?”

“Right.” Keith can’t look him in the eye.

“Hey, you okay?” A hand reaches over and grabs one of his clammy fists, pulling his gaze from them and up at the man just an arm’s reach away from him. Lance looks as nervous as he feels, and his palm is also slightly damp, though Keith reckons the cloth was to blame for that. “We don’t have to make this super serious, okay? We can ask stupid, pointless questions too. Or just not play this game at all. We can watch some TV.” He smiles; gesturing to the little screen playing an old movie at low volume. His smile’s a little shaky in the corners but honest at the same time and the darker-haired man feels the tight coil in his chest unwind just a little.

“Well, maybe… we can have a passing system?” Keith mumbles, and he speaks up when Lance leans closer to catch his words. “A safe word, for when we don’t want to answer a question. If it’s too serious or painful.”

Lance smiles again, and Keith knows he doesn’t imagine seeing his tanned shoulders slump a little in relief, and he feels his hand get squeezed in response. “Sure. How about ‘red light’? Like the traffic light system?”

Keith nods.

“Alright, practice questions, red light whatever you don’t want to answer.” Lance waits for him to nod again before asking: “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.You?”

“Twenty-five. Lefty or Righty?”

“Righty. You?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions like that?” Keith nods, and Lance blows a soft raspberry. “Both.” Lance grins cockily. “Ambidextrous. Birthday?”

“October 23. Yours?”

“July 28. Favourite genre of music?”

“Alternative rock, mostly.” Keith pauses. “What about you?”

“Hmm? Oh, I like most music apart from country. Used to have to do line dancing to Cotton Eyed Joe, scarred me for life.”

Keith snorts, and Lance’s grin breaks out into a toothy smile as the pair of them start to relax fully. Keith grabs the folded blanket from the nearby chair and drapes it across him, shuffling closer to Lance and tucking in beside him under the blanket. Lance lifts an arm and rests it across the back of the couch, their legs and hips brushing under the blanket and electrifying Keith’s senses and need for touch.

“So, you ready for my first official question?” Lance murmurs softly, reaching forward to grab their drinks, and he hands Keith his mug, which warms his hands pleasantly.

Keith holds up a finger. “Red light.” Taking a long sip of his tea, he sighs pleasantly. “Okay, green light.”

Lance snorts. “That’s a total abuse of power. Ok, if you could have _any_ superpower, what would it be?”

He doesn’t even have to hesitate. “Control of probability.”

Lance blinks at him, a small smirk forming. “Have you been thinking of superpowers before?”

“Maybe.”

“Why probability?”

“Think about it, you could literally make anything happen if you could control the chances of it happening. The probability of winning the lottery? Make it 100%. The probability of creating world peace? 100%. Probability of stopping that bank robber? 100%. You’d be invincible.”

Lance’s expression goes from mild interest to full enthusiasm in seconds as he processes what Keith says. “Oh my god!! Keith!! That’s amazing! That would be the BEST superpower.” Lance thinks for a moment, then grins. “How about this, what’s the probability that I can kiss you in the next ten seconds?”

“Hmmm,” Keith pretends to think it over, and while he isn’t looking Lance leans over and smooches his cheek.

“100%!” Lance cheers.

“You’re a fucking nerd.”

“You _liiike_ it,” Lance sings, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Whatever you say. My turn now.” Keith takes a deep breath, thinking over the questions that have been in his mind for a while now. “Hmm, how about… did you always want to be a teacher?”

Lance hums, sipping his drink. “Well, honestly, it’s always been the plan to teach. I was undecided between what to specialise in for a little while, but my best subjects have always been math and sports, so it was pretty much set. Although, I was scouted for college baseball at one point…”

“Baseball?”

“Yeah, I was really into it in middle school and high school. Second year of being on the high school team, coach said I might get scouted.” He smiles, though it was slightly bitter. “Things happened, and I ended up not being able to play during the scouting match. Stopped playing altogether eventually.”

Keith can feel that there's something there that Lance left out, but doesn’t push it any further, instead tucking his free hand under the blanket and resting it on Lance’s thigh, and waits for Lance to continue if he wants to. Lance blinks his eyes into focus at the touch and watches Keith’s expression, which is guarded yet empathetic. He smiles. “When I started teaching I found the Little League group, and eventually became the coach for it. So it’s not a complete loss, don’t worry about it.”

“Not counting as one of my questions, but do you ever miss playing seriously?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugs, “mostly because I liked the challenge of playing against other good players. There’s only so much you can do to teach little ones to hit a ball.” His hand reaches up from the back of the sofa to rest lightly at Keith’s neck, thumb brushing through his hair. “I have better things to focus on now.” He finishes his statement with a grin.

Keith leans back into the touch. “Alright, ask me your next question.”

“Hmm,” Lance thinks for a moment, then grins again, tugging at Keith’s hair. “Tell me a secret hobby or talent that you have.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really a talent but… I can make the purring noise cats do?”

“What? Show me!”

He doesn’t know how to describe it to someone else, so he simply makes the growling noise in the back of his mouth and lets it rumble into the mimicry of a purr. He can only hold it for as long as he can hold his breath, since he needs to breath sometimes, but it’s enough to make Lance giggle like a small child.

“That’s so cute! Kitty Keith~” he cooes, making kissy faces at him and petting his hair. Without thinking Keith makes the growl deeper, more like an angry cat warning yowl. Lance just smirks. “That didn’t even sound threatening, more like the opposite: please growl at me more, me- _ow._ ”

“That was a stupid waste of your question and I regret everything.” Keith pouts. “Ask me another one.”

“Fine, fine, how about: what would your dream holiday vacation be? Like where would you go, when, and what would you do etcetera?”

“Honestly? Anywhere.” He shrugs. “Somewhere where there’s not a lot of people maybe, just sleep rough and hitchhike everywhere, explore from coastline to deep wilderness… stargaze at night and eat campfire food. Probably in the summer if I’m sleeping outdoors. And I’d probably just try and collect as many photos and souvenirs as I could, for keepsakes. Stuff like that.”

It’s silent for a couple moments as Keith drinks his tea and realises from his peripheral vision that Lance is watching him with an unreadable expression, but… it isn’t a bad one. Just thoughtful.

“That sounds… great. Really fun.” Lance smiles softly, like there’s something else he wants to add to that sentiment but can’t find the words. “Follow up, don’t count it but - would you travel alone? Or maybe with friends?”

Keith shrugs. “Not sure. I’m not good with groups so maybe one or two people? It’s not like I have a long list of friends I trust enough to travel with lying around.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he knows that that isn’t entirely true. Images flash in his mind of Lance: dressed in eccentric beach clothing, trekking with him through the woods, lying beside him on the ground at night as they look up at the stars. Could he do something like that with him? Would he _want_ to? They would have no-one else but themselves to rely on, to trust, to keep each other out of trouble. Somehow the thought of him and Lance travelling alone to an unknown destination together gave him a thrill rather than a sense of dread, though he keeps this to himself.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Lance starts to scratch at his hair again, which was soothing. “Your turn.”

“Tell me about your family?”

Lance looks a little surprised, nearly coughing into his drink as he sips.

“You okay?” Keith frowns, confused.

“Y-Yeah,” Lance clears his throat. “Just.. people don’t usually ask about my family. It’s pretty big, and it can get boring.”

“No, I want to know,” Keith sets his drink down on the coffee table, leaning back on the couch on his side to face Lance and give him his full attention.

“Well, my mum is Maria Rivera-Roberts, and the most beautiful woman in my whole life.” Lance begins with a soft, loving smile. “She’s super short, it’s kinda funny, but she sure as hell can kick your ass. She’s passionate about everything she loves and everything her kids love, and she’d rather run herself ragged than deny us a hobby or club or event. We never had a lot of money in the bank but we weren’t poor, and all of us could pursue our dreams with her full support. My biological dad... passed away before I was born.” Lance pauses there, takes a sip of his drink, and carefully avoids eye contact with Keith as he sets his mug down on the table. “Charles McClain, 30-something at the time, and a pilot who died in a crash due to malfunctions in the engine. My mum never married him, so I have her last name.”

“What about your older siblings? ” Keith asks, and when Lance glances at him questioningly, he adds, “you said before you were a middle child, so..”

Lance nods, the slightly tense furrow in his brow easing a little. “You remember that? Yeah, all my siblings are my half siblings. Life was not kind to Mama; her first fiance left her when she found out she was having twins, and her second fiance dies in an accident.”

“I’m sorry..” Keith frowns, but Lance shakes his head and smiles reassuringly.

“She’s a tough woman, and has a big heart. And my step-dad Archie takes really good care of her now. Spoils her rotten, just like she deserves.” He laughs lightly.  

“I’m glad she’s okay. She sounds great.” Keith smiles back at him.

“She is. Anyway, on to the chaos that is the pecking order. First: Lucas and Lucy Rivera . Both are 29, and Lucas is the elder of the two. Lucas works as a police officer down at the local P.D. and is married to a lovely lady named Amy. They already have two kids; 4-year-old Thomas and 2-year-old Madeline. Maddy for short. Lucy is a professional makeup artist and travels around a lot to work behind the scenes for movies, she’s also in a long term engagement with a costume designer at the same company. They all have their own lives now but the both of them always make time to visit at Christmas. Then there’s me, Lance, 25 and a devilishly handsome school teacher,” he wiggles his eyebrows with impressive intensity and gives Keith a charming smirk, which makes him honest-to-goodness _giggle_. A snort of laughter follows shortly and Lance chuckles too, and seems to pull him in a little closer. “Then there’s Alexander and Molly-Rose. Alex is 18 and just finishing school, aiming for a swimming scholarship and Molly is 15 and in her second year, and I’m pretty sure she still wants to be a vet.” Lance grins sheepishly. “That’s all my immediate family. There’s also grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins but… I figure this is more than enough information for you for now, right?”

Keith nods gently, his mind on the arm that had been slowly creeping around his shoulders during Lance’s talk, steadily pulling him underneath it and into a light embrace. Lance’s legs are flush against his under the blanket, almost making it unbearably warm for him, though he isn’t willing to move away.

“They sound… really nice. Like good people to be around.”

“Maybe you’ll meet them one day.”

A moment of silence, and startled blue eyes meet silver-grey in shock.

“I-I mean! Lucas works in the area, patrolling and all that, and I know he likes to take Amy and the kids out for family dinners so who knows, maybe they go to the Altean?” The darker-skinned man laughs nervously, then sighs heavily at Keith’s continuously bewildered expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud - or make it seem like I was gonna drag you to a family gathering without warning.”

“I-I.. um. I-It’s fine.” Keith ducks his head, willing the hot feeling to disappear from his face. He doesn’t want to admit that even if it's terrifying, he kind of did want to meet them. In the quiet that follows, the TV in the background begins to play a movie that he recognises, and it distracts him for a few seconds, drawing him into a sleepy daze. He tries to hide his yawn.

Lance smiles in relief and hums for a moment, if only to fill the silence, then speaks. “I can’t think of something to ask, why don’t we leave the rest of the questions until tomorrow?"

He jolts guilty, dragging his eyes away from the screen to meet Lance’s. “Sorry, I uh..” he trails off to stifle a bigger yawn. “I’m more tired than I thought..” It's true. The paint balling has taken up more of his energy than he'd expected, which makes sense considering his usual week is simply working, jogging and relaxing. He hasn’t done something this active in a long time, which is probably why his head tilts to the side on top of Lance’s arm, and he looks up at him through his hair. He’s watching him back, a picture of amusement and softness in his features. There’s still some paint in the roots of his hair. There are three large freckles above his left eye, too. Mumbling, he admits, “I kinda want to kiss you.”

He expects surprise; instead Lance’s eyes narrow and focus on Keith’s parted lips, and after a moment’s hesitation he feels the taller man pull him in slowly and kiss him, barely creating any pressure. He draws away for a second, breathing out a low “Keith..” under his breath, and he leans in once more, kissing him again and again, more intense than before but not pressuring him into deepening the kiss to anything more than a peck. Another hand snakes around his waist just as his own pale hands reach out to Lance, one resting against his chest and the other tangling into the short brown locks behind his ear. Their legs shift until Keith’s rested sprawled across Lance’s and they stay that way, kissing sweetly, for a few minutes.

Lance breaks their kiss after another moment, leaning his forehead on Keith’s briefly and pulling back to look at him properly. “You know, tomorrow’s a bank holiday, so I don’t have to work…” He pecks the tip of Keith’s nose with a cheeky grin. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night?”

A sense of dread mixes with familiar excitement as he regards Lance’s hopeful expression. He isn’t… is he really asking to hook up again? Keith feels a little pleased at the thought, admittedly, as his mind brings up memories of the pleasure and intimacy he’d felt with the other man the first time, but a deeper, nagging worry creeps up and overshadows over that, replacing it with the fear that he's being used again. But… he really likes Lance. He wants him to stay, and he’ll stay if he sleeps with him, right? Wordlessly, he nods his head, and Lance grins.

“Perfect, I’ll put these cups and stuff away, alright? You go get ready for bed, sleepyhead.” He presses a quick kiss to his forehead and wriggles out of their tangle of limbs and blankets, shutting off the TV with one hand as he went. As he takes the mugs to the kitchen, Keith gets up and leaves the blanket a mess on the couch, going to the bathroom to do his business and brush his teeth.

He tries to will himself to be more alert. More energetic, so that he’ll be more responsive for Lance. He wants to make Lance feel good, feel passionate, feel like giving Keith the intimacy he craves. When he gets to his room, he hears Lance ducking into the bathroom behind him whilst humming happily. It makes his heart hurt a little, so he strips his sweatpants off quickly and hides under the cool material of the duvet, and waits with thoughts of Lance on his mind.

The man in question joins him a minute later, and as he gets comfortable under the duvet with him Keith pushes up on his elbows, reaching out to pull Lance’s head towards him and kisses him with a fake fierceness. A startled gasp escapes his mouth before large hands grip his hips, steadying him as he pulls himself atop of the other in a flurry. He keeps deepening his kisses as he straddles him, willing himself to _focus, don’t you dare yawn again Kogane_ , and he tugs at Lance’s hair to try and encourage him more. Seconds later, however, and Lance is pushing him away by the shoulders.

“Keith,” he pants, in need of air. “Keith! What’s up with you? I thought you wanted to sleep,” he frowns, looking more concerned than anything else.

Keith sputters as he leans back on Lance’s stomach, his skin crawling in mortification. “W-What?! You’re the one who asked to sleep here tonight, I thought-” his voice cracks and he can’t meet Lance’s worried look as he goes silent.

“Tell me,” Lance takes his hands. “Please.”

“You know what I was going to say,” Keith mutters. He’s beyond embarrassed at this point; god, what does Lance think of him now? He practically threw himself on him.

“I need to hear it from you clearly to understand. Please.”

“You know what kinda people I’ve been with,” he snaps, and it hurts, it hurts to talk about it out loud, his blood pounds in his ears and he hates it. “When they ask to stay with me they only want sex.” He jerks off of Lance’s lap and off the bed, gathering up his sweatpants again. “I know you say you’re different, but it’s so easy to relapse, I just -  I just automatically think this way, I don’t know what else you’d want from me.”

“Oh, Keith.” It sounds pitying, which makes Keith feel even worse. The sheets rustle and Lance whirls him around to face him, though he keeps his eyes averted. He allows himself to get embraced by the taller guy, and the two of them go silent as Lance holds him steady, one hand resting between his shoulders and the other rubbing circles once again on his lower back.

“I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give me.” He hears Lance murmur calmly, feels the way his cheek rests on the side of his head, sees the rise and fall of his chest in front of him. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything. You want to just sleep? Perfect, I’d love that. You want things to go further? I’d be honoured to be the one to please you.” A shudder runs through Keith’s body at those words, and he tucks away that phrase for later inspection. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable by asking to stay, I’ll go.”

He jolts again, though this time his arms react first and he latches onto Lance’s tank top. This close, he can see dried paint splatters on it as well as on the sweatpants, and he holds tight as he whines, “No! Don’t go. I’m sorry.” _Don’t leave me._

“Hey. _Hey._ Look at me.” Lance’s voice changes from soothing to stern, and the firmness of it makes Keith comply. His face is equally stern, but also a little hurt. “Don’t _ever_ apologize for saying how you feel. Your first concern should always be yourself. Please don’t ever throw away your comfort to make someone else happy.”

Keith wants to reply, but words fail him, so he nods.

“Good. Now, tell me honestly, should I go?” His words are quiet but sincere. He’ll really pack up and leave if Keith wishes. Since the initial embarrassment is fading though, he still wants Lance to stay with him, so he shakes his head.

“Stay, please?”

Lance smiles, like he's just been told the best news in the world, and he squeezes him into another gentle hug before pulling the shorter man with him towards the bed, making sure to tuck him in first and himself after. He lets Keith arrange himself as he wants, meaning curling into Lance’s side and keeping a tight grip on his shirt. Their legs tangle and the arm Keith’s trapped between his pillow and shoulder - he’s making sure to put as little pressure on it as possible - moves just a little bit, and he feels Lance’s hand lift the hem of his shirt slightly to rest it against his skin there, scratching and making soft circles in place soothingly. Shyly, Keith returns the gesture by moving his hand from its grip on his shirt to splaying his fingers across the firm muscles of Lance’s stomach. As he wriggles them, he can feel Lance tense and twitch beneath them.

“Lance,” he whispers, a small grin of amusement playing on his lips. “Are you ticklish?”

“No.”

“I think that’s a lie.”

“I’ll fight you, Keith Kogane.”

Keith snickers against Lance’s shoulder, and in the gloom of the dark room he almost misses the way Lance grins back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS  
> HEY  
> HEY
> 
> THIS IS STILL EARLY IN THE MAKING BUT... I MIGHT BE IN A KLANCE ZINE.  
> I MIGHT BE WRITING IN A KLANCE ZINE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-
> 
> If you wanna come join me and scream about it with me you can hmu at
> 
>  
> 
> [@kaiisan_](https://twitter.com/kaiisan_)
> 
>  
> 
> !!!
> 
> I'll try and get the next update out before I have to work on that, as well as my other fics, and new fics ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )  
> I have up until chapter 14 of this planned!! IDK how much more after that, but we'll see!!
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE BE KIND AND LEAVE ME A REVIEW I LIVE OFF OF THEM RN <333


	9. Bank Holiday Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Updated Fic Tags for the Future™]  
> Keith has a nice, almost-stress-free day with Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys I stayed up 24 hours to get this done pls pls love it
> 
> tags are updated bc we're getting closer to revealing whats up with these poor bois so fair warning

Keith wakes when he hears a loud clatter coming from down the hall.

For a moment, he’s disoriented - the sun is still low in the sky, suggesting early morning or at least earlier than usual for him, and he’s alone in bed. The sheets are a mess and there’s a distinct feeling that there should be someone else in here with him, but they’re not. In the moment it takes memories of the previous night to return to his foggy mind, he worries if Lance has left him again, but there’s more noise coming from what he thinks is the kitchen and he can faintly smell something sweet in the air and he can’t stop the dazed smile forming on his face as he realises that Lance stayed.

He takes his time waking and rising, standing to his feet with a lazy stretch and yawn, and heads to the bathroom to do his usual morning routine and finally wander towards the kitchen. He hears music and humming, and slows as he turns the corner.

Lance is standing by the oven, swaying in place as he hums to a song on Keith’s little radio and scrambles eggs in a pan. There are two plates stacked with small pancakes and bacon beside him, fresh and piping hot.

“What are you doing?” Keith murmurs, smiling at the sight before him.

“Breakfast,” Lance hums back, glancing over his shoulder. “It was gonna be in bed, but..”

“My mistake, I’ll go back…” Keith smirks, turning around.

“Get your cute little butt back here.”

Keith grins, then twirls around again to sit at the bar.

Lance keeps humming, singing along to the upbeat acoustics of what Keith thinks is one of Ed Sheeran’s newer songs.

 _“Love can change the world in a moment, but what do I know?”_ the brunet sings under his breath, then continues to hum along as he finishes with the eggs and serves them up on their plates. There’s ketchup and syrup and butter as well as cutlery all laid out already, and he swishes his hips around the bar to join Keith on his side to sit. Keith glances down at his plate and frowns a little.

“Ah, sorry, I can’t really eat bacon in the morning,” he grimaces, apologetic. “Makes me feel sick.”

Lance blinks at him, then shrugs. “Oh, mind if I have them then? D’you want some of my scrambled eggs instead?”

“Sure.”

Lance scrapes scrambled eggs from his plate onto Keith’s and spears the rashers of bacon with his fork and once satisfied, grabs the syrup. Keith waits his turn and pours a generous amount onto his plate as well, and the room is comfortably silent besides the music on the radio and the occasional grate of metal on china.

“Do you have any plans today?” Lance asks through a bite of pancakes. It’s casual, though Keith sees a little hopefulness there in his expression as he waits for a reply.

He chews thoughtfully, swallows and responds, “I’ve got work at 5, but I’m free until then.” He glances up at the clock on his wall, which reads roughly 9.30am, and yawns at the earliness of the hour. “Though I kinda wanna go back to bed for a bit.”

“That’s fine by me,” Lance grins, “do you mind if I borrow your shower? And some clothes maybe?”

Keith nods, and the rest of the breakfast is finished quickly, with Keith promising to do the dishes once he’s found something that would fit Lance to wear. He has a pair of Shiro’s spare jeans from when he stays over in the guest room, since his legs are longer than Keith’s, and he recons he and Lance are about the same size at the hip and lends him a pair of his boxers, as well as one of his baggier long-sleeved shirts. Lance thanks him with a peck on  the cheek and a swat on the butt with his borrowed towel as he darts into the bathroom. Keith just sighs and goes to start washing the dishes.

This all feels terribly domestic to Keith. Is this what real couples are like? Would this be what it’s like to date Lance seriously - waking to breakfast being made for him, doing household chores whilst the other gets ready for the day? Make plans to spend their free time together as much as possible?

 _Probably not,_ Keith’s mind muses, _unless you want to wake up before 7am on weekdays just for pancakes._ Keith’s unsure if he’d wake _that_ early for food.

He’s done with the dishes after a few minutes and makes his way back to bed quickly, eager to cuddle up in the warmth of his fluffy blankets once more, and only slows when he hears more of Lance’s singing from the bathroom. It’s a little more earnest now, a bit more pronounced in tone as he gets into the meaning of the song. Keith doesn’t know it personally, something pop and catchy but it seems that Lance knows the words by heart, and the thought makes him smile as he crawls into bed and waits for him to join.

He hears the hair dryer start as his eyes drift shut comfortably and shortly after hears feet padding towards his room. He keeps his eyes shut with a soft grin as Lance hums, moving around the room for a moment before lifting the blankets and wiggling his way under to join Keith.

He peeks an eye open at the intruder, who looks appropriately sheepish.

“Sorry, thought you were asleep,” whispering with a grin, he slides his arm under Keith’s head as he lifts it to yawn. They gravitate towards each other in the centre of the bed easily, and Keith can smell his shampoo and strawberry body wash on Lance’s neck as he tucks his head under his pointed chin.

“It’s fine, I’m just dozing,” Keith murmurs, “I don’t wanna just fall asleep and leave you to be bored, anyway.”

“Nah, you can totally do that if you want, I can nap and enjoy your company just fine too.” Lance whispers back, lips nearly catching on wisps of Keith’s fringe as he places soft kisses to his forehead.

“Do you wanna keep playing 20 questions from yesterday?” Keith mumbles, still nuzzling closely. He's feeling anxiety-free and warm, dammit, he's going to get as many cuddles in as possible right now. His free arm reaches around Lance’s waist to scratch at his back, and he notices when Lance begins to do the same to him with a grin.

“Yeah, if you want,” hums Lance in response, “it’s your turn, either way.”

“‘Kay,” Keith pauses to think over possible questions in his head. “How about, if you had 3 wishes, what would they be?”

“Oooh, okay,” Lance slips his hands under his shirt, drawing shapes along his spine as he hums and thinks, and the attention paired with the soft noise lulls Keith for a moment into a light doze until the older man speaks up again. “First wish would be for my family to be financially stable forever and ever - they’d never have to worry about being poor or not affording something they want or need.”

Keith blinks at that, awed. It’s a reasonable wish too - not outright riches or infinite money, but always stable, which at least sounds better. Not having to worry about money would be great, he thinks.

“Then, my second wish would be to somehow get rid of greed and hatred, and replace it with peace, love and equality. I don’t know how it’d work exactly, because, ya know, there’s so many things wrong with the world that fall into those categories, but hey if magic wishes can grant me a perfect world then I’m sure as hell going to make it happen right?”

Keith shrugs, “I mean yeah, technically this is a scenario where your wishes can’t go wrong so…”

“Yeah, so I’d wish for those two things. And I think I’d save my last wish for an emergency, just in case. Like, if someone I know suddenly got into an accident, I can use it then to save them, or something. Something miraculous.”

“That’s… really well thought out, honestly.”

“Why, what were you expecting?” Lance shifts back to look at him curiously.

“I don’t know, maybe to live forever or have infinite wishes or my super cool probability powers,” Keith teases, laughing quietly as Lance pouts at him.

“I think my wishes are a lot more awesome than that!” he insists, pinching lightly at Keith’s sides, even though he knew he isn’t ticklish.

“I didn’t say they weren’t good!” Keith yelps; pinches still hurt a bit even if they don’t tickle.

“Alright, alright.” Lance stops pinching and goes back to dragging his nails lightly along the ridges of Keith’s spine. “Okay, so did you have like any childhood dreams you wanted to come true? Like a dream job or?”

“I really liked piano for a while,” Keith murmurs thoughtfully. “But my teacher said I struggled too much to read the sheets to be any good, and I wasn’t good at learning by sound either, so I just got frustrated and stopped after a while. But I still like listening to piano music even if I can’t play it anymore.” Keith’s fingers tap random keys along Lance’s ribs as an example, dancing a little too close to his sides to make him giggle, and dancing back after a moment. “Other than that, I liked art? Music and art, hah, two of some of the most difficult career choices to have without commitment and good training.”

“They’re still cool dreams to have, even if they aren’t what you do now.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I mean… you are happy being a bartender, right?” says Lance after a moment, leaning back to look at him again. “Not counting as a ‘20 questions’ question but yeah, do you actually like your job?”

Keith yawns, and shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “Most of the time, yeah. I like mixing cocktails and creating new drinks that people go crazy over because it looks or tastes a certain way, and the attention it generates on social media is good for business too. But on the other hand I hate when we’re really busy and understaffed, because that usually means I can’t do any of the fancy stuff, and more likely that I’m out waiting tables.” With a huff, he tries not to frown too much, aware that he’d met Lance through waiting in the restaurant area, though the freckled man before him seems unconcerned by this.

“As long as you’re happy,” Lance nods with a smile, leaning forward to kiss Keith’s forehead tenderly. The gesture is innocent, and much to his pleasure, familiar and welcome now. His hand grasps the back of Lance’s borrowed shirt, as if to hold him in place, and he tilts his head upwards to try and catch that mouth with his own. Lance catches on and meets him in the middle with a pleased smile melting against lips, and the arms around the raven haired man tighten in order to roll him suddenly, causing Keith to break the kiss with a nervous start and hands jerking out to re-balance himself atop of Lance’s chest.

Their legs tangle together as Lance chuckles and Keith huffs, but he uses the new position and newly freed hands to cup Lance’s face and kiss him a few more times. It’s unrushed; all lazy kisses and hidden smiles and gentle hands trailing up and down his back like an explorer discovering all the secrets on a map.

Some time between trailing soft kisses down Lance’s neck and the latter using his hands to massage Keith’s shoulders, he’s sure he actually starts to drift asleep once more, and Lance doesn’t wake him up until it’s just after midday.

“We should go get some food, Babe,” Lance murmurs as he starts blinking into consciousness once again, and to his amusement he actually feels Lance’s stomach rumble underneath him.

“Sure,” Keith agrees, checking his phone as he sits up - aware that he has Lance’s attention when Lance runs his hands up and down his thighs delicately. He knows he’s in the man’s lap in this position, and even through the material of his sweatpants and the jeans Lance is currently wearing he’s sure if he shifted enough he could feel everything below him _very well_ if he wanted to. Keith secretly likes being in this position of power, being on top and in control. _Power bottom,_ his brain uselessly supplies, causing him to mentally roll his eyes at the terminology. It’s just nice, being able to watch his partners unravel beneath him, to stare back up at him with want, lust, adoration, anything that filled the spaces in his lonely heart-

The way Lance looks at him right now is so much better than that.

There’s a shy grin twitching away in the corner of the lip Lance was nibbling on, eyes not fully focused on him but instead as if in a daydream, hands drifting up and down his thighs in a casual pattern, and it… feels right. The domestic, simple intimacy, the unrushed touches, the non-sexual and laid-back feeling to a normally sex-based position, the stress-free silence. Lance focuses back on him for a second, catching him staring, and smiles sunnily.

“Don’t suppose you know anywhere that’s open on a bank holiday?”

Keith blinks, shaking his head as his cheeks warm. “Not really, I’ll have a look.” Phone already in hand, he unlocks it - no new messages, though Pidge has poked him back on Facebook for the 529th time; they’re both determined to reach 666 - and after a moment of searching finds a small cafe near the central park open until early afternoon.

“There’s a place by the park,” he mentions quietly, eyes flitting shut with a sigh as Lance’s ministrations on his thighs deepen and massage the muscles above his knees and up towards his hips. Body worship isn’t something he gets often and he is going to enjoy it.

“Whenever you want to go,” Lance catches his free hand with his own and starts drawing shapes against his palm idly. His stomach growls again and he chuckles sheepishly. “But maybe soon, please?”

“Mmn,” Keith squeezes one eye open with a soft smile. “But I like being pampered like this.” Twisting his hand in Lance’s to lace their fingers together, he pulls them towards his face so he can kiss the soft brown skin by his thumb.

Lance whines, wrinkling his brow as he slaps his free hand to his mouth. “You’re fucking adorable, holy shit,” he grumbles, and he tugs Keith towards him insistently until he complies and leans down. He pushes up onto his elbows and kisses Keith sweetly, free hand curling into his hair, and then suddenly Keith’s being flung off Lance’s lap and onto the bed again. Lance leans down over him with a cheeky grin, booping him on the nose and then scrambling to his feet.

“Come on, I think I’m actually going to starve if you trap me here with your cuteness.”

Keith laughs, and reluctantly gets dressed with a grin.

 

* * *

 

The park is busy when they get there.

Being a bank holiday, lots of families must have decided to take their kids out since the weather is decent despite being quite cold - Christmas is a couple weeks away after all - and the amount of kids in the area troubles Keith a little, though Lance just looks amused.

They’re walking side by side together, not holding hands, though close enough for Lance’s arm to brush against his as he swings them childishly back and forth. He’s wearing his glasses again, stating that he’d nearly forgotten them when he wore his contacts to the paintball match. Luckily he’d left them in his car and now Keith’s stomach flutters as Lance fusses with them occasionally.

They cut through the children’s area of the park to get to the cafe on the other side, and enjoy some deli sandwiches with coffee and watch people pass by the window.

“So, question,” Lance speaks up between bites, peaking up at him over the rim of his navy blue frames. When Keith offers a noise of acknowledgement, he continues, “did you have any idols growing up? Like celebrities or musicians you liked in particular?”

“Um, not really…” Keith shrugs. “I didn’t watch a lot of TV. But I guess people I admired were like, Ellen Degeneres, Sir Ian McKellen, Neil Patrick Harris…”

“So people who are openly gay?” Lance summarises with a smile.

“Yeah, they made me feel like I wasn’t broken, I guess.” Keith frowns, though it fades as Lance nods agreeably.

“I understand all of that. Edgy preteen-me _swooned_ over Billie Joe Armstrong a _lot_.” Lance chuckles as he eats.

“The Green Day singer?” Keith raises a brow.

“Hell yeah, man. Openly Bi since 1995.” Lance blinks. “Hey, that rhymed!”

Keith snorts.

“Your turn,” Lance picks out a piece of onion from his sandwich and flicks it at Keith, though it falls short and onto his own plate instead.

Wrinkling his nose, Keith leans out of range of any future projectiles and thinks silently for a moment. In all honesty, he knows the both of them have elephants in the room they need to address: Keith’s one-night-stand origins, and the… _something_ that happened with Lance’s ex-boyfriend in the past, if what Pidge said is anything to go by. Whilst he knows he shouldn’t downplay his trauma and brush it off, he gets the feeling that whatever happened with Lance is a lot more serious. Like, involve-the-police level serious, maybe. Not a lot gets Pidge riled up the way they were when they described wanting to hurt Lance’s ex like that.

But a quiet cafe in the city centre isn’t the time or place for that. And besides, they’d been kind-of dating for only a couple weeks right? There's no need to rush that kind of talk. Keith is thinking too far in the future - it’s not like he is certain of Lance staying like he promises. He doesn’t think the man is lying, per se, but Lance deserves way better than what he can offer. He doesn’t deserve to have his motives questioned after every few kisses or cuddles in bed. He doesn’t deserve the breakdowns, the broken pieces. He just wonders when the other man will realise it.

“What do imagine your future will be?” Keith blurts, cringing seconds later as it comes out sounding way more invasive than what he’d intended. Lance is blinking at him with quickly reddening cheeks so he adds, “I-I mean, job-wise; like where do you see yourself in the future?”

“Oh,” so quiet Keith almost missed it, Lance turns and looks out the window for a moment as he presumably thinks over his answer. Keith finishes his sandwich in the silence and nurses the rest of his milky coffee as he keeps his gaze angled to the window, appearing to look out towards the park but casually keeping an eye on Lance’s reflection at the same time.

“I think I wouldn’t mind just staying a teacher,” Lance says finally, having also finished his sandwich. “But I would like to be able to teach more classes, and different year groups. And maybe teach a love and gender class for the kids taking sex education. Maybe an LGBT+ group for questioning kids if I get a good response? My school is quite open but it’s something the school board itself decides on.”

Keith nods; Lance is charismatic and approachable and radiates kindness, it’s easy to imagine the influence he has over his co-workers and students, however he knows that a lot of people still find ways to argue his sexuality as a hazard to young children.

“Are you… out? At work?” Keith asks hesitantly.

“Yes, since day one!” Lance smiles confidently. “I made sure to show from the beginning that I am who I am, and that is fabulous! And that doesn’t affect my abilities to be a good teacher.”

“I bet the kids love you,” Keith grins back.

“I have a lot of empathy, and little siblings.” Lance shrugs smoothly, “And I can understand being a kid that struggles to study; I was the same. I didn’t know I was good at maths until I got to high school and had Hunk teach me in a way I could understand.” Lance’s gaze drifts as he recalls the memory. “I teach my kids the way I’m dictated to teach, so that they can pass their tests, but I let them use my easy-peasy methods in their homework, as long as they learn both then nothing will go wrong, right?”

Keith nods again.

“And as for the rest of my future,” Lance adds, swirling his coffee cup, “I’m happy to settle down. Maybe get a bigger place; I live in a block of flats at the moment. Just something where I can come home to the love of my life, my cats, - possibly a kid, who knows, - and say, _‘hey, I’m here’_ , you know?”

Keith feels like a bobble head figurine at this point, but he keeps his head ducked low this time so he doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes, scared that the brunet will see the want and longing in his face. Christ, how did he get so lucky as to bump into this guy by chance? He's so lovable, and charming, and wants the same domestic and happy future that Keith isn’t sure he's capable of having at this point, and his hands clench his cup tightly to hide the urge to lean over and grab him, plant his mouth on Lance’s and tell him _yes, fuck yes I want that too._

He’s being creepy. He’s so desperately wanting a steady relationship and future and almost throwing himself at Lance in his mind and he needs to calm down, so he murmurs something about his ideals sounding sweet and gets up from their table quickly, heading to the counter to pay their bill before Lance has a chance to follow him and demand to split.

There’s silence as he meets Lance at the doors of the cafe and they leave together, standing out in the cold air once more. Keith checks the time on his phone; somehow, they’d managed to spend nearly two hours in the cafe, eating and talking.

“Want to go down to the lake?” Lance chirps, breath clouding and dissipating quickly as he quirks a hopeful brow at the shorter man. Either deceptively casual or genuinely unfazed by Keith’s earlier behaviour, he starts bouncing on his feet, tip-toeing along the road towards the park again and Keith follows with a small sigh and smile.

The park’s lake is towards the far end, far enough away from the children’s play area to not require a tall fence around it in fear of wandering toddlers, and instead has sandy banks merging into the grass field that surrounded it. The trees nearby were old, and the bark smoothed in some parts where generations of children clambered over its branches to explore and play. Lance coos over one in particular, a tree with a trunk that twists outwards and to the side halfway up, and the branches along the sides of it growing taller and is well weathered like most in the area. He hands his glasses off to Keith as he breaks into a jog.

“I’m sure this is the tree I used to play in with Lucas and Lucy!” he calls as he races up the tree like a monkey, easily reaching and pulling himself up into the foliage. He disappears from sight for a moment, and Keith walks around to the other side, where the trunk had dipped to the side, and sees Lance reappear in a gap of leaves and branches, sitting in a nest of grown-close-together limbs, looking proud of himself… and also stuck.

“Can you get down again?” Keith calls with a smug grin.

“Of course!” Lance pouts, though it takes a couple careful wiggles until his rear end is free once more. Lance has the audacity to only climb halfway down again, before balancing along a thick branch parallel to the ground and _taking a running leap at Keith._

He doesn’t even have enough time to swear before Lance nearly collides with him, instead he throws his arms out in front of him carefully, and just barely grabs a hold of Lance’s jacket as his knees crumple and he starts to flail forwards.

“You’re a fucking dumbass,” he curses out as Lance laughs, and he fights as the other man just wraps him up in a tight hug and spins them around a couple times playfully. He lets him go again after a moment, takes his glasses back and skips off towards the lake, already searching the sand for stones to skim.

It turns into another competition once he catches up; Lance dumps a handful of smooth, flat pebbles into his hands and announces the person to skim a stone the farthest with the most bounces wins a prize from the loser. It’s a whole lot of fun, actually, as Keith learns the best method to flicking his wrist to make the stones skim farther, and occasionally trying to nudge Lance’s arm just as he goes to throw his rock, and ultimately the winner is decided as Lance manages 13 skips and almost reaches the other end of the small lake.

“So what do you want as a prize?” Keith huffs, maybe a tiny bit annoyed that he lost another challenge. It distracts from his anxiety and maybe he wants Lance to be impressed but either way Lance is bouncing around victoriously.

“The winner demands a kiss!” Cheekily, he taps his finger against his cheek, winking and puckering up his lips.

Keith sputters and is shaking his head before he even gets his words together. “I-um, I don’t-”

“I’m kidding,” Lance interrupts, waving a hand to catch Keith’s attention before he started to panic. “You don’t have to. How about you let me drop you off at work?”

“Um, okay.” Keith nods, and Lance smiles at him, turning from the lake to start the walk back to his car. Keith regards him for a moment, and the surrounding area - surprisingly quiet - and catches up in large steps, reaching forwards and snatching up Lance’s hand.

“Hey what-”

“Shush.”

Lance chuckles, and hums whilst swinging their joined hands back and forth slightly.

 

* * *

 

Lance hangs around at the bar as Keith sets up for his shift. Pidge has a few minutes left of their shift and since Lance knows where they live he offers to drive them home. Pidge, ultimately, looks immensely relieved at not having to walk for once and pours him a lemonade on the house, which Keith endorses just this once, he promises to himself.

As he starts methodically taking over full control of the tabs, drink orders and stock count of the bar, he catches snippets of conversation between Pidge and Lance. The latter is currently describing their lunch outing in the park, complete with vastly exaggerated movements and descriptions of the stone-skipping contest. Pidge looks mildly amused at his antics and indulges him, and eventually 5 o’clock ticks into place and the tiny bartender practically vaults over the little bar side door and yells for Lance to hurry up as they hurry outside with their bag hanging haphazardly from one shoulder.

“Look that’s my cue to leave.” Lance murmurs, watching Pidge over his shoulders as he stays slumped on his barstool. Keith imagines the pout he sees on the brunet’s face.

“I’m afraid so, I think.” Keith nods agreeably; luckily there weren’t many patrons in the bar today due to the bank holiday - people will either be out and about or having a family meal at home, and from the looks of things many have decided on the latter instead of making reservations - so their conversation is basically between themselves.

“Oh, you have something on your cheek, though, c'mere,” Lance wiggles his fingers at him, drawing him over the top of the bar.

“What is it-?”

Within a moment, Lance leans over to meet him and presses his lips firmly to Keith’s cheek, loudly pulling away with a _‘mwah!’_ and a grin.

“Later ‘gator!” he calls with a giggle, dashing out of the bar and dragging Pidge away quickly before Keith can chase after them. He should be annoyed, but instead he can’t wipe the grin from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be the last update for this fic for like a month at least i got 2 others I wanna update and time is not kind  
> Comments would be lovely  
> @Kaiisan_ on twitter if you wanna chat  
> I'm gonna go back to sleep <3


End file.
